


Harmless

by BurningSama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningSama/pseuds/BurningSama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the incident in the pool both Stiles and Derek have had confusing emotions that neither of them have any clue of how to deal with them, but they can try...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written while Teen Wolf's second season was ongoing. I'm new to AO3 so please inform me of any tags I should add. I've haven't reedited this, sorry. I believe I edited at least each chapter once, but don't hold me to that. There are approximately 16 chapters, however, I do believe I'll continue when the third season is ongoing.
> 
> This work was transposed from my FF account.

Stiles remembered the cold water washing over him as he selflessly jumped into the water after Derek. He knew not why he had jumped in after the werewolf that on several occasions slammed him into lockers, threatened he would rip out his throat with his teeth, and several other problematic things to the teenager. Instead of worrying over tests or his father, he was continuously worrying about Scott's problems, werewolves, other supernaturals, the Argents, and God knows what else other than focusing on his school life. Oh yes, he completed his homework religiously, but it was done well, but not perfectly.

  
He drove into pool, lifting the muscular werewolf to the surface. He kept kicking, the water was close to spilling into his mouth. It was... empowering to have the man in his arms, depending upon him to keep him from drowning. The Kanima's scratch paralyzing him neck down.

  
He continuously mulled over that evening, over and over as he lay down in his bed. There was something about being so close to someone who was persona non grata amongst his best friend. Scott had it in his mind that turning damaged teenagers was somehow immoral, and yet Stiles couldn't help, but believe that Erica had changed for the better, no longer plagued by her seizures, Isaac by his father, and socially outcast Boyd. So why distance themselves from Derek, when Derek had been nothing, but help when they first met him. Sure he was rough, but at least he was candid. If he hadn't been involved in most suspicious activities around Beacon Hill, Stiles was sure his father would like him. He trusted his father's opinion, after all he was his last relative; his mother had died, crushing him entirely. Every time his father left for work a part of him became nervous, even if they lived in a small town, as of late things were dangerous. Terrifying. It was that same fear of the unknown that drove him into panic attacks after his mother's death. His father, when he was younger, would have to stay with him until he fell asleep, reassuring his son that he would always be there to protect him.

He was drifting to sleep remembering Derek's smell; even in the over chlorinated pool water he could smell the man's unique scent, a combination of cedar, decaying leaves, damp like those found on the forest floor. Somehow that was comforting and Stiles fell asleep.

  
When he awoke he was glad it was the weekend, he could use a couple hours more sleep. He fell back asleep, taking those two hours gratefully. This time when he woke up he had dreamt of a plan. He was confused, he didn't know what he was feeling, but he knew that if he could find Derek he would be able to understand. Why had it been so easy for him to remember Derek's smell, and why had it been such a comfort to him. He didn't know, but he was going to find out. The only problem was finding him. He had long since moved from the burnt remains of his childhood home that he had returned to a year ago, but since becoming alpha they hadn't seen him there. His mind was spinning, how was he supposed to find the werewolf? He couldn't follow him, that wouldn't work with his superhuman senses. Derek didn't have a cellphone, so tracking that was pointless. He mulled over a few other plans, before coming to the realization that Erica and the rest of Derek's pack carry them. Without Derek as a motivator he just hoped that he had enough pull with Danny to ask for another favour.  
<br>  
Stiles padded through his sheets, his mobile must have been around there somewhere. He wrapped his fingers around it before texting Danny asking for a favour. Danny's reply was brief, but direct. He send two letter, O and K. Within the hour his fellow lacrosse player was in his room looking around hoping that Stiles' 'cousin' Miguel was about. He had always known that 'Miguel' was Derek Hale, or at least Jackson had informed of it.

  
"What do you want, Stiles?" Danny asked.

  
"You know I really really hate asking again, but I need you to track down a cellphone," Stiles asked.

  
"You're pushing your luck," Danny asked. "You have nothing to bargain with."

  
"Listen I need to find this person. I don't know how to explain it. I just need this, please."

  
Danny somewhat stunned at Stiles' honesty was silent until he could manage to agree to Stiles' request. He explained that he expects Stiles to actually study and participate in Chemistry labs. Stiles was thankful, he felt lucky that Erica had given Scott her number, if he ever wanted to join Derek's pack instead of being an omega. He gave Danny the number and he was clicking away at Stiles' laptop. Within minutes he had retrieved a list of places the phone had been within 48 hours. Danny left him with a list, feeling — hoping that Stiles would tell in one day what this was all about. His curiosity was greater than he thought.

  
Stiles took the list, ran through all the address, her home, the school, shops, but what was more interesting was about a block away from the industrial district just outside of Beacon Hill's main street and the school, her phone would go down. The steelworks was nearby, if memory severed him right that was where Derek was running from the Argents before Kate Argent had captured him.

  
"Perfect," Stiles shouted excitedly. He felt rather stupid for not thinking of it himself. He rushed through his room throwing on a light canvas-type light-green jacket before reaching for his keys and the bottle of Adderall his father insisted he keep whenever he got in one of those states, whether it be ADHD or the bouts of narcolepsy he suffered after his mother died.

  
He jumped in his jeep, the paint looking even more faded in the morning light. His mind was racing, whether it be on the subject of Lydia who he had only just come to grips with her preference, even if it wasn't him. Her Jackson — even if Jackson didn't feel that way about her anymore... That could change. Regardless, Lydia didn't fancy him, even how hard he tried. He parked his car down an alley, not quite at his destination, but close enough so it wasn't much of a walk and that it was far enough from the road that if a passing police vehicle were to spot it they would clearly know it was his. He wouldn't want that, not when he was so close.

  
He strode toward the opposite warehouse from the steelworks. There was no sign of anyone being there, but Stiles knew that there were several floors below ground that obviously wouldn't have windows. He entered the warehouse. The building was fairly run down, the stairs had been destroyed, or at least to point that it was inaccessible by anyone. He walked around the room tapping his foot, hoping he's find something. It didn't take long before he was able to find a panel of the floor that opened up. A ladder lead downwards, he assumed that this was a service access panel that Derek had converted into an access point. He assumed that a werewolf would just simply jump, but he took his sweet time. He landed softly on the ground, making only a subtle sound that didn't resonate against the concrete walls. Sketchy lights slowly flickered as he crept along, in no time, however, he heard breathing, it bounced around him and he froze solid. He heard running, and so he ran. In now time he was in a large room with a streetcar or subway car train. He spun in circles, not seeing any other exit. He was trapped.  
Out of no where he was on his back, Derek's hand wrapped around his throat. His alpha-red eyes staring directly at him, his breathing laboured, and his canines fanged.


	2. Friction and Desire

"Happy to see me," Stiles said, gasping through his tightened throat.

Derek took several moments to calm himself. "What are you doing here, Stiles," Derek said, his voice untoned by his werewolven base.

"It's just since." Stiles paused. "Since the pool I haven't been able to stop." He blushed. "Never mind, I'll just go." He tried to lift himself up, but Derek kept him firmly against the ground.

"How'd you find us," Derek asked.

"I got Danny to track Erica. I figured you'd have to stash away somewhere remote that even the Argents wouldn't assume you'd go."

Derek released his grip, but kept his hand lightly against Stiles' throat. "What were you saying about the pool?" He was menacing, Stiles could hear the deepness to his voice and could smell his cedar scent from the small distance between them.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," Stiles blurted out, surprising even himself. He turned his head away from Derek, embarrassed, before the werewolf with his freehand forced Stiles' head back so that they were face to face — vis-à-vis. Stiles couldn't help his blush blooming further across his face. Derek stared intently at him. Stiles could feel now just how different Derek's temperature was in comparison to his own. Silence passed for moments, long enough for Stiles to start to fidget.

"Thank you," Derek said.

"Thank you?" Stiles sputtered out confused, the werewolf had never once thanked him for anything, even when he had practically saved his life when he was shot by a wolfsbane bullet.

"Thank you for saving my life."

Stiles tore his gaze from Derek's and muttered, "It was nothing."

A smile appeared on Derek's face, or what Stiles assumed was his best attempted at a smile. It was more of a cross between a smirk and a grin. Furthermore, just like Stiles he had been experiencing the same inability to stop thinking of the human. The way he fidgets became cute, his silly smile attractive, and Stiles' boldness. Throughout their acquaintance Stiles had always done something bold whether it be standing up against Peter Hale to save Lydia or stand up against both Derek and Scott when they were wolfing out. The teen was definitely bold. Since the pool, Derek had never felt so helpless. Depending upon another to keep himself alive; he hadn't been in need of someone else's help since his parents were alive. Since then he had always been alone, particularly after his sister's death; depending on no one else but himself. These feelings brought forth were odd, something that he never once thought he'd have. He had always felt that Stiles needed protecting, that as Scott's best friend he would be the best way to include Scott in their pack, and not to mention that Stiles had on numerous occasions been rather useful, with his father being the Sheriff, or always risking himself when it benefitted his friends.

Derek unwrapped his fingers from Stiles' throat, whom instantly scrambled to his feet. Embarrassed, Stiles ran towards the exit, not check back to see if the alpha was following him. When he reached the ladder he looked backward, no one had followed. He climbed back up to the surface, wasting no time to get back to his car. He sat there in the driver's seat for what seemed like forever. How could he have been so stupid, why had he wasted his time going there. Why did he risk his own life to come and tell Derek that he was obsessing about him. He grew angry with himself and started the engine, turning the key angrily in the ignition. He threw his hand against the passenger side front seat and backed out of the alley.

He drove aimlessly for thirty minutes not sure where to go. He didn't want to go home, and his phone kept buzzing, but he didn't bother to look at it. He just drove. Without realizing it he was driving into the cemetery and practically threw himself out of his car. He ran threw, following a familiar path.

"Mum," Stiles whispered. He sat down next to a tombstone.

"Dad's well. He works a lot, and I'm sure he's been mad at me a couple of times because Scott, you know my best friend I told you about the last time I visited. He's a werewolf, unbelievable huh? He's with a werewolf hunter, or at least her family is. Alison Argent. Speaking of loves. Lydia, the girl I've had a crush on since third grade will never love me. Even after everything." Stiles paused and looked around, checking for the signs of anyone living.

"Mum, I'm have feelings about someone, you know Derek Hale. His family died in that fire. I've never had these feelings before. They're confusing, mum. Do you think." His voice thickened, he was on the verge of tears. "Do you think dad would understand? I don't even know if it's attraction that I'm feeling. I should ask Danny. He'd know? Wouldn't he mum?" He thrust his face into his cupped hands, "I just don't know what I'm feeling. To make matters worse I just admitted it to Derek. I need to go."

Stiles picked himself off the ground said his goodbyes before walking back to his jeep. He texted Danny — again. He was probably gonna be pissed, and yet Danny replied immediately. They were to meet for coffee and when Stiles arrived Danny was waiting. The coffee house was local and was very quaint, with wire chairs and tables outside. It was fairly early in the morning still and so there was only a few groups of people inside. They brought their lattes outside and sat down at a table face to face.

"Finally going to fill me in on why you had me track a cellphone earlier this morning?" Danny asked.

"Sort of. I've got questions for you though," Stiles said.

"Well how about you answer mine, I believe you owe me that."

"Fine." Stiles paused, thinking what he was going to say. "I was looking for Derek Hale."

"Yes, your 'cousin' Miguel."

"Sorry." Stiles winced. "About that."

"No worries. Did you find him?"

"Yes."

"Expand, please," Danny prodded.

"Well it has to do with my questions, but first I need you to swear that you won't repeat anything you hear."

"I promise, now spill."

"How did you know you were gay?"

The question caught Danny off guard, he nearly choked on his coffee. "It took longer than I care to admit. For the longest time I couldn't come to terms with it. I had read online about all the problems facing gay teenagers throughout America. I didn't want to be a victim. Soon it became too hard to keep hiding a part of myself. It started with Jackson; I told him and to my surprise he was fine with it. I never felt attracted to Jackson, he was my friend not someone I wanted to sleep with, but others." Danny laughed. "Others I wanted to jump right then and there."

"It's just I feel so confused. I've always loved Lydia, but..."

"She never returned your feels," Danny offered.

"Exactly, and Derek... Well I don't know how he feels."

"Sounds like you could be bisexual."

"Thanks, Danny. I owe," Stiles said, jumping up from his seat and running to his car. His keys slipped through his hands and landed underneath the car. He clambered to get his keys, while Danny laughed.

In no time Stiles was back in the same alley around noon. His head was spinning from all that Danny had said, and all that he was realizing about himself. He ran through the warehouse, afraid he would lose his nerve. He virtually slid down the ladder and ran into the main chamber of Derek's lair. He wondered where Derek was, but before he could complete the thought Isaac, Eric, and Boyd were surround him, their eyes glowing wolfishly.

"What are you doing here?" Eric growled.

"I'm here to talk to Derek," Stiles said, somehow mustering an authoritative voice.

"Talk to us instead," Isaac said.

"Do I have to repeat myself — I. Want. To. Speak. With. Derek. Or is that too confusing for you wolves," Stiles heatedly said prompting the wolves to growl.

"Enough!" Derek shouted. He calmed, "What are you doing here again, Stiles?"

"I came to see you," Stile said. He coughed, "Alone."

Derek growled, forcing his betas to make their way out of the complex. "Done."

Stiles came towards the larger man quickly causing some panic in Derek's eyes, he didn't want to kill anyone innocent. Stiles was inches from Derek, whom let the teen linger there. Stiles stood on his tiptoes and planted a kiss on a surprised Derek. He swiftly gripped Stiles arms, but didn't push Stiles away. His firm lips became soft under the pressure of Stile's. Derek took control, his tongue darted out between his lips wetting Stiles' before forcing his way into the teen's welcoming mouth. Derek explored Stiles' mouth only coming to stop and intermingling their tongues. Stiles let a moan escape him, Derek's hands tightened and lifted the teen up. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's waist before the werewolf let his hands go so that he could wrap them around the wolf's neck. He ran a hand up Derek's neck, interlacing his figures into the man's hair. He pulled at the hair, pushing a growl from Derek's throat. It resonated within Stiles seductively hardening the bulge in his pants. He ground against Derek's firm sculpted body. The werewolf smiled through their kisses, giving him the opportunity to take in Stiles lower lip into his mouth, suckling. Derek strode through the doors of the subway cab, going straight through the opposite side doors, and then through several sets of doors. He slid several bolts shut, easily removing an arm to do so. Stiles grew impatient and lightly bit down onto Derek's upper lip eliciting a full fledge deep growl that sent the teens hormones gunning.

Through frantic tonguing and kisses, Stiles could barely see that they had entered a makeshift bedroom. A mattress had been elevated off the ground by wooden slats and had been sheeted. He had a couple of pillows, a new looking IKEA dresser, and only a few photographs were taped to the wall.

Derek lowered them both on to his makeshift bed at which point Stiles could feel the werewolf's bulge pressed against him. Derek was now above him, holding Stiles hands above his head and straddling him, pressing themselves into each other, grinding shamelessly. The werewolf's hot breath dust over the teen's neck, trailing kisses and nips down his throat, blemishing the flesh as he went.

A cellphone ring pierced through, it rung once before the tone changed to a customized ring. Stiles tried to lift his hand to reach his phone, but Derek held him fast.

"Leave it!" Derek roared. He looked directly into Stiles eyes, his own red.

"We wouldn't want my dad tracking my phone," Stiles said somewhat sarcastically, but Derek took him seriously. He released one of Stiles hands.

"Sorry put my phone down," Stiles answered.

Derek could hear the conversation on the other end of the cellphone.

"I had some time for lunch and went home. Thought you'd be around, where are you?" Sheriff Stilinski said.

"Visited mum's grave, I'll be home shortly."

Derek's face grew angry.

"No rush. You alright, need me to pick you up?"

"No, no, dad. I'm not having an attack or anything. I'm on my way." Stiles hung up his cellphone.

Derek pouted rather devilishly, or at least that was the way Stiles took it. He forced Stiles free hand back up before planting another forceful kiss against Stiles' lips before pushing himself off the bed. He growled out of frustration. Stiles could see just how desperately he wanted him, but before he could say anything Derek pushed away his dresser from the wall unveiling a rather large whole in the wall. Meanwhile Stiles himself was vastly disappointed, but what could he do his dad had brought him back to reality.

"This'll lead you out," Derek said, enjoying the shock on Stiles' face. "Did you really think I would have only one way out. For someone so smart, your stupid."

"You can't blame me for thinking you're a himbo," Stiles said sarcastically. Derek seemed less than impressed. "What! I've said it once and I'll say it again, sarcasm is my only defence." He averted his eyes to the ground, blushing. Stiles jumped through the whole, and just before leaving, Derek yelled, "Cover the hatch up with leaves."

"I'll be back," Stiles said shyly.

"You better, or I'll hunt you down."

Stiles raced down the tunnel, thinking just how much of a cock block his cellphone was, not to mention his father. He loved his dad, but damn he felt pent up. He sighed rather exasperatedly, as he calmed down from the high. He heard from down the passage Derek covering up the hole again, and punching a wall, expending the bridled energy he hadn't been able to direct into Stiles.

The pathway led out into the forest surrounding the area, it had probably been used as storage shaft years ago. They would always have vents and hatches for easy access to storage. Another ladder until he was back up on the surface. It took him a moment to get his bearings before he ran off to his car, covering the hatch with leaves before he went. He had done a lot of running today, and it wasn't doing wonders for him. He was tired by the time he reached his car, it was nearly one thirty. It had felt like ages while him and Derek were at it, as if they had spent the entire afternoon interlaced. He was brought back to reality. He threw his hands against the wheel, "Fuck!"

By the time he was back home his father had made lunch, a couple rather enormous sandwiches that looked absolutely to die for. He sat down opposite his father, taking about out of sandwich. He hadn't been aware before, particularly when he was with Derek, but he was starving. He practically inhaled his food, his dad, however, observed him. His son's cloths were wrinkled, as if he had been laying down in his clothes. His father noticed that Stiles kept adjusting his shirt, the teen could feel his bruised flesh. Oh he hoped that his father couldn't see any of it. He would only have questions.

"Did you bring flowers to the grave," Mr. Stilinski asked his son.

"No, it wasn't planned I just went," Stiles said.

"Not that I don't think visiting is a good idea, but what brought it on?"

"I was thinking about her, and it helps to go and talk."

"You know that you can always talk to me."

"I know dad. It's just idle talking."

"Well I'm off to work again," the Sheriff said standing from his seat. "Might want to be careful with lacrosse with your neck and all. It's dangerous."

Stiles smiled, and when he heard his dad close the door behind himself he ran to the bathroom. A large purple bruise was hidden partially by his shirt. Stiles couldn't help but blush imagining what his father was thinking. Regardless, he wanted to see Derek, they had things to finish. Unfortunately the realization, or at least the potential of the ephemeral feelings they had shared. Maybe it was out of the rush and flash of emotions that pushed Derek to reciprocate. He didn't know. He desperately wanted Derek. He wanted the werewolf by him right then and there.

Stiles went to the door, pulling on his jacket, just as the doorbell rang. He quickly answered. Scott stood on the front porch.

"Thought I'd use the door this time," Scott said. "I know how much you hate when I use the window."

"Thank you. So what's up?"

"I've been texting you all morning, where have you been?"

"Dealing with dad, he's been noticing that I've been coming home at all hours, because I really get into that much trouble," Stiles said sarcastically. "What have you found out?" Stiles readjusted his jacket and shirt, hoping that Scott hadn't noticed Derek's nips. "It's usually me who finds things out, I'm glad Alison is having a positive effect on you."

"Yeah, she's been great. We've been searching for her grandfather's bestiary and we've trolled the internet for Kanima. So far we've only found about the bestiary. It's just gonna be hard to get it."

"I'm sure Alison and you'll find a way."

Scott's cellphone rang and he withdrew it from his pockets. "Hello? Mom, I. Okay, I'll be right there."

"Apparently, if I get to the hospital I can borrow the car. I've got go."

Scott waved goodbye as he got on his bicycle and practically tore down the street. Stiles stood there nearly laughing, watching until his friend turned the corner. He got into his jeep and drove to the florist. The florist that owned the shop for years and was always very kind to Stiles and his family. His mother always loved calla lilies and sunflowers. His mother always had flowers in the home, sitting on the breakfast table, in her room, in the foyer, and in the living room. Everywhere she touched the air of springtime would follow. He bought a dozen of each and a couple bottles of water.

He got out of his vehicle and walked to his mother's grave again. Twice in one day, this must have been a first. He always had an empty feeling whenever he was there. It was hard to stay there for more than a few hours before the emptiness would take its toll and it would take him several days to recover from the grief.

"Hey mum... Danny was a lot of help, he explained the feelings I was having for Derek. It sort of validated my feels. It made them feel more real. I don't know if Derek feels that way — that way about me. I just kind of forced myself on him, he reciprocated, but... It doesn't matter." Stiles sniffled. "Anyway, I brought you flowers, dad suggested it, I would have the first time I visited, but it was sort of out of blue." Stiles grew silent, before falling into contemplation.

He awoke from his thoughts, the sun was dipped down the horizon. He shook his head and went to his jeep, realizing that if he didn't get home his father would start to worry, that is if he was home. Stiles may have been terrible at cooking, but he would always try to have something on the table when his dad got home. Even if what he had on the table was simply takeout. He did try to watch his father's caloric intake, doctor's orders.

He made whole wheat rice (thank God for rice makers) and sautéed vegetables. They had leftover steak, so he sliced it into slices and added it into the mix. He left it to heat before turning off the oven and moving the wok from the heated burner. His father should be home soon, it was already half passed eight.

Stiles sat at the table waiting in silence. The faucet in the kitchen sink dripped, his dad would have to fix that, he was hopeless when it came to plumbing or other similar tasks. He could build a computer and battle pixelated monsters, but he couldn't fix a stupid leaking faucet. The phone rang.

"Dad?"

"Hey Stiles, we're interfacing with other town's police departments and we'll be patrolling main street, so I won't be home."

"Another night on the couch in your office," Stile said, making a crunched-up face.

"Yah probably. Hey, please stay in tonight. It'll keep my mind at ease."

"Yeah, sure dad."

"Promise me, Stiles."

"Geez, dad. I promise. I promise."

"Night Stiles."

"Night dad."

Stiles ate alone, before packing the rest away in Tupperware and putting it in the fridge. He got ready for bed, brushing his teeth before shaving his face, clumsily dropping his razor and stumbling with it accidentally nicking himself in the process. He sucked on his thumb till the blood flow slowed. He finished shaving before showering, and after got into his thin pajama pants and an form fitting undershirt. He lay on top of his sheets thinking about the day. He should have gone back to Derek? Or would it have been awkward... Or. He clenched his jaw, frustrated.


	3. Determination

A knock sounded against the glass of his window.

He unlatched his jaw and turned to look at the window. Even in the darkness he could make out Derek's form in the moonlight.

He knocked again, Derek face shifting into pout.

Stiles picked himself off his bed and went to his window. He unlocked it and Derek slid open the window. With extreme graceful agility he came off the window sill, slinking into the room. He straightened his leather jackets then approached Stiles, sauntering his way with his recognizable irritated face. Stiles grew fearful, feeling rather exposed in his PJs. He stopped right in front of Stiles, dropping a knee between Stiles' legs, forcing the teen backwards. Derek braced both hands on either side of Stiles' head. He dropped his head close to Stiles', leaving only inches between them. Derek's breath warmed Stiles' flesh.

"I said I'd hunt you down," Derek said.

"Used all your super senses to tackle that one?" Stiles said.

Derek growled. He domineeringly seized Stiles lips with his own, quickly push his way through the teen's lips with his tongue. The taste of blood met him rather bluntly, his eyes glowing red from the animalistic desire. He hungrily tongued his lover, enjoying Stiles' natural taste and the addition of blood. He wanted to devour Stiles, in whatever way possible. His breathing became laboured, as he was feeling the rise of his heartbeat. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek's waist, threw his hands around Derek's neck, and hoisted himself up, deepening their union. Stiles fell back down, Derek still attached, wanting more.

It was Derek who broke their kiss. He slid his hands under Stiles shirt, lifting it over his before trailing licks and nips down Stiles' chest. The teen struggled both to contain his moans (failing) and at Derek's jacket — noticing Derek stopped his assault and, with a cocky seductive smile-grin, doffed his jacket and even more slowly lifted his tight green woollen t-shirt over his head throwing it to the floor with some unbeknownst flare.

Stiles licked his lips nervously admiring Derek's highly firm structured body. His blood ran south, tightening the front of pajama pants rather indicatively. Stalking his prey, Derek lunged at Stiles, laying on top of him. Stiles ran his hands over the werewolf's back, enjoying the warmth and the smell of Derek's cedar musk. He dug his nails and clawed his way down to the small of the wolf's back. Derek growled, smirking deliciously as he begun to slid Stiles loose pants down to his thigh. Just before he got below the hips, however, Stiles yawned unintentionally.

"Bored?" Derek asked with a ting of anger in his voice deep wolven voice.

"No, it's just been a long day," Stiles managed to force from his lips. He had the remnant taste of the werewolf in his mouth and he revelled in it. "I want you. I want this." He yawned again, his eyelids flickered betraying just how tired he had become.

"I'll go. But! You better come," Derek said. He picked up his jacket through the floor and then his shirt. Stiles could tell he was frustrated, that he wanted released, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. He slept poorly the night before and he had spent the entire day draining his emotional and physical strength. Derek went the window.

"Wait!" Stile said. "Stay". Derek turned his head and shut the window before laying his shirt and jacket on the back of Stiles' computer chair before awkwardly crawling in next to Stiles. He wasn't used to sleeping next to someone, he had been awhile. He took the extra pillow and put it behind his back. Stiles tucked himself next to Derek, the warmth of the werewolf's flesh against his back was soothing, Derek's breath on the back of his neck seductive, and yet he fell asleep rather quickly feeling safe.

Stiles awoke to the morning light, he glanced over to his clock, eight a.m., all before his memory kicked in. He could feel the warmth of another body next to his and so he slowly turned over so that he was face to face with Derek's pectorals. He glanced up to look the werewolf in his face; his eyes were shut and he breathed steadily, his typical scowl turned tranquil. He looked so peaceful that he couldn't imagine waking him. Stiles drew in his arms and tightened the distance between them. He inhaled the man's scent, it intoxicated his senses to the point that he momentarily considered waking the werewolf up so that Derek could have his way with him, but his control was regained within seconds. He pressed his face against Derek's chest.

An hour passed until Derek awoke; Stiles had just closed his eyes breathing him in. Somehow whether it be through the werewolf's supernatural senses or just intuition he knew that the teen was awake.

"How long have you been up, Stiles?"

"An hour or so."

Derek stretched, "You should have woken me."

"I don't think you get much sleep being alpha and all."

"No," Derek said softly, almost reminiscently. "I don't get much sleep."

"Nor a shower, you smell good, but you look like your homeless."

Derek smiled, "I'd bathe in a river or something, but in such as small town that would just be odd."

"Well use my shower, and I'll make breakfast."

"Won't your dad be home soon?"

"Naw. He won't be home until tonight for a change of clothes or for some leftovers, but he'll probably spend the rest of the week working tirelessly. Give me your clothes, I'll wash them and make you breakfast."

"Well Stiles, if you wanted to see me naked you should stop cock blocking yourself."

Stiles blushed, "Go shower."

Derek walked towards the shower, stripping off his pants. He was stark naked, no interfering underwear. He let his pants fall to the floor as he strolled toward the shower. Stiles rushed behind him, picking up Derek's shirt and pants before taking them to the washer.

After starting the wash he went to the kitchen, scrambling a few eggs and popping bread into the four-slice toaster. It was quick and easy, but he assumed that Derek would be happy with anything. He could hear the water running and he could only imagine Derek's naked form wet. He wished he had been bold enough to slip into shower with him, but his boldness had parted him in the night. Their bodies intermingled, wet, and their actions frantic. Stiles shook his head, his blood southern bound. He plated the food just before the buzzer from the washer rang. The teen ran to the laundry room, and put Derek's clothes in the dryer.

Derek opened the door, the steam rose in plums from within. A towel was bound around his waist, he turned toward Stiles enjoying the gobsmacked expression on his face. The teen shook his head, and stuttered out, "N-nearly finished." The dryer buzzed, and Stiles ran to get them. Derek was in his room waiting for him when he returned.

"You look as though I asked you to cut my arm off again," Derek said.

"I doubt that, I don't think I look absolutely horrified."

"Fair enough." Derek stood up, towering over Stiles, and picked up his clothes. He dropped his towel, forcing Stiles to quickly look away, although not fast enough to not catch a glimpse at something he liked. He hardened; Stiles knew that Derek could smell his desire, his arousal, and this was confirmed by Derek's chuckle. Stiles blushed, he turned around. The werewolf had his pants at his hips, but he was still shirtless. Stiles ran his hands over Derek's chest, clawing downwards leaving a trail that quickly healed. There was a lower growl and Derek's hands approvingly held the teen's hands against his chest.

"We don't want to let breakfast get cold, after you put all that work into it," Derek said disappointedly.

"We could reheat it," Stiles said, looking up at Derek's face. The teen's stomach growled.

"And that's that," Derek said, picking Stiles up and taking him down to kitchen. "Eat!"

Stiles smiled, he dug his fork and ate the entire plate quickly. Derek was slower, he definitely had better manners; he had been raised in an upper-middle class life style after all. He forked the egg delicately, and was just ironic enough to make Stiles laugh.

"A wolf with manners," Stiles said. "Who would think. Do you hunt like that?"

Derek snorted, "I've hunted you, do I seem all that mannered."

Stiles stopped laughing. Derek laughed, an oddity in his own right. "My mother said even if we were wolves we didn't have to behave like them, at least while we weren't hunting."

Stiles smiled, "Mum tried to teach my dad and I manners, but we were always terrible at it."

"Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean," Stiles said, amused.

"You take Adderall."

"You're not going to give me the turn-me spiel."

"No. Unlike Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, you've got friends, your father loves you, and you don't have a crippling debilitating disease. I don't have a pitch to sell you on."

"You forgot I'm much too smart for that, and I know about the Argents."

"Yes, the Argents." Derek paused, "So tell me, is this all you know how to make?"

"This breakfast sums up my cooking," Stile said.

"I'll have to cook for you then, because as delicious as this is..."

"You can do better?"

"Indefinitely."

Stiles' phone rang, his father's number popping up on the screen. Stiles looked at Derek before answering.

"Hey dad, coming home? Want me to drop something to eat off by the station," Stiles said, knowing Derek was listening.

"No Stiles, thank you though. I'll be home at eight, we've got some promising leads.

"Love you dad, be safe."

"Always."

He hung the phone. Derek could see the micro-frown on Stiles' face and the look of disappointment in his eyes. His nose scrunched adorably. Stiles got up from his chair, pushed Derek' chair back and straddled him. Stiles pressed his nose into the werewolf's neck; his scent hadn't changed, at least not where it counted. Cedar and soap.

"We've got all day," Stiles said, mouthing his words into Derek's neck. The werewolf wrapped his strong arms around Stiles, lifting him up into his arms as he stood. He was taking them toward the chairs when a knock at the back door stopped their progression. Derek looked into Stiles' eyes looking for an answer, but the teen hadn't a clue. They went to the back door, the werewolf cautiously turned the handle.

"Derek," Erica said.

Derek growled annoyed, "What is it?"

Erica pushed her away in, Derek didn't stop her. She glided by Derek and twirled around Stiles in her threatening way. She got close, too close, and whispered into Stiles' ear, "You smell of Derek." There was an air of jealousy that was barely audible. Derek noticed, and enjoyed as Stiles flustered against her taunts.

"I assume you came for a reason," Derek said.

"You weren't at the liar, I worried. We worried," Erica said rather heatedly.

"The Argents wouldn't attack the Sheriff's home, this place is safe."

"And that's the only reason you're here," Stiles said sarcastically.

Derek smiled, "Among other things," the male werewolf teased.

"We've got training shortly, or at least I thought so," Isaac said, leaning against the doorframe. Derek could see Boyd in the backyard leaning against the fence.

Derek lowered his head then looked at Stiles, who nodded at Derek, as if wordless saying 'fine'. "I'll be out in moment, did you bring my car?"

Isaac had disappeared, but Erica remained behind Stiles, "We brought the car." She left the house rather quickly closing the door behind her.

Derek meandered to Stiles, taking a hand to hold the teen's chin. Gently, Derek pressed his lips to Stiles'. They lingered momentarily; Derek brushed his tongue over Stiles lips before forcing his way through and tasting his lover. Derek broke their union and left a nip-mark on the teen's throat. He breathed against Stiles's throat before the teen spoke, "Come back tonight? Please."

Derek smiled, "I'll be back, 12, okay?"

"See you there. Now go your puppies are getting anxious and I don't want to explain patches of dead grass."

Derek turned around and left.

Stiles stood alone, the house silent — empty. He started to fidget and in the blink of the eye he had his keys in his hands. He threw on his jacket and was out the door. He drove back to the café, ordered, and the sat down with his coffee. Coffee generally was something those with ADHD would usually avoid, but Stiles always found that it soothed him, and yes sometimes it made him fidget a little more, but he was old enough to make his own decisions.

"Did my advice help," Danny said. He hugged a man who looked only a few years older than himself, they kissed quickly, before Danny sat down.

Stiles blushed, "You helped a lot."

"I'm glad. Did Derek reciprocate?"

Stiles fidgeted, his face warming. He took a sip from his coffee before looking to Danny.

"I see. Well I'm off, I've got my own conquest to handle," Danny said, lifting himself from his chair and heading toward his car, where the man was waiting. He smiled back to Stiles, who beamed back out halfheartedly. He ordered another coffee.

Derek was back in his lair, he had a hand on his temple whilst he listened to the complaints of his pack. Erica jealous held no valid complain, but Isaac was quick to stress Derek's number one room, don't get involved, it makes you weak. Boyd stood back, not interfering, but listening, he was new, he wanted the information.

"You're pups! It's a greater risk. Occasionally you could risk it, Scott for example, but it could risk exposure; you could kill someone," Derek said. "If you have a problem with Stiles, let it out! Or is it a problem with me?"

"Can we trust Stiles not to blab to Scott where we are? He stands on a moral high horse," Erica said irritatedly.

"And is Stiles careful, what if the Argents follow him?"

"Stiles is careful, he kept Scott secret close to his chest and he's always been a loyal friend to him. So if there is enough bitching we've got training."

Stiles was on his third coffee, his heart was pounding in his chest; he was thinking about him. They way Derek spoke to him, the way he was with him, and they're connection. He finished his coffee, debating about what to do for the rest of the day. He wanted to go see Derek, but he knew he could only get in the way, and he didn't want to be around Erica who seemed to be rather jealous.

Scott pulled up next to Stiles' table. He sat down next to his friend, "Hey Stiles."

"Kanima news?"

"No, I was just wondering if I could borrow your econ. notes. I'd ask Alison, but her parents have been overly protective. Since the Kanima." He sniffed the air, as if something caught his attention. "Has Derek been around? Did he try to get you to accept the bite?"

"No Derek didn't come around to try to bite me," Stiles said, wanting to add, bite me hard that is, but couldn't.

"His smell is all over you," Derek said.

"So?"

"Stiles why do you smell like Derek!"

"Scott, I'm a loyal friend, but shut up."

"Tell me!"

Stiles got up from his seat in hurry and ran to his jeep before Scott could follow. He may have been a werewolf, but he used his senses in groupings, but never all together. He was slow, but strong. He pulled out and started driving going no where.


	4. Cold

What was he supposed to do? Stay and take Scott's comments, his all to right implications. He was embarrassed, but he wasn't ashamed. It was more the feeling that he was getting from Scott, that by smelling of Derek — by being with Derek, he was betraying Scott in some way. He didn't feel that way, he felt that he could both be friends with Scott and lover's with Derek. He didn't want to go to his mother's grave, he didn't want to compound more emotions into a situation he knew would foster more feelings. He didn't want to go home, that would be condemning himself to silence. He turned the radio on, the music would distract him long enough. He was antsy —the music didn't help.

He tightened his grip around the wheel, his skin blanched from the pressure. He glanced at the clock, it was six and the sun was dripping down the sky, the ink of darkness bloomed and enriched the sky. His phone rang, the god damn phone that prevented them before. He answered it reluctantly, feeling anger toward the object instead of the people who called. "Hello."

"Stiles, this is the Sheriff's department."

Stiles inhaled.

"Your dad's been shot, he's at the hospital."

Stiles hung up the phone. He shifted gears, jolting his jeep to the edge of its life. He sped towards the hospital, feeling lucky that he was close enough that the chance of him being pulled over for speeding was minimized. He nearly forgot to lock his jeep as he ran from his car. He was in the hospital in a flash, waiting by the door was Scott's mom.

"He's alright, Stiles," She said, her face grief stricken.

"What happened?" Stiles asked.

"The police are being close lipped as always, but he was shot from far away, maybe by accident."

"Accident. Where?"

"The ambulance came from just outside the city. Come Stiles, he's sleeping," Melissa McCall said.

His father was bandaged across his chest on the Sheriff's right side, avoiding the heart. His heart was in his mouth, he was practically choking on it. He couldn't keep his vision from narrowing, nor could he stop his stomach from churning. His breathing laboured and he knew that he going to start hyperventilating. He darted out of the room; Melissa didn't notice until she saw the teen run through the hospital. She only saw a streak of him before she heard the door shut.

Stiles revved his engine and sped down the road, stopping to drop his jeep off at his home. He switched his jeep for something more discreet — his bike. He hadn't used it since he got his jeep, but it would be far easier to hid it over his vehicle. He peddled as fast as he could, his breathing hyperventilated, and he knew he was close to a full blown attack. By the time he was at the warehouse district he was glancing around cautiously, checking for people if they followed him. He doubled up and down several streets, risky considering he was nearly facing trembling and probably immobility. He had to make sure Derek would be safe, he wouldn't be able to deal with it if the Argents found Derek because of him. He ditched his bike, hiding it well, before walking into the passage.

He ran once he hit the ground of the secret liar. He was in the main room with the subway car train. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd were lounging about until he came in panicking. They could tell something was wrong, they could smell it. They all tensed. Stiles couldn't breath. He couldn't think. His knees buckled.

"What happened," Derek growled. "Stiles!" He didn't give his pack a second thought before he dismissed them; he picked up Stiles and carried him into his makeshift room. He was breathing shallowly, the hyperventilating still present. Derek sat down in his bed and placed Stiles onto his lap. He wrapped his hands around his lover and rocked back and forth. The warmth of the werewolf's body brought him tenuously back to reality; his breathing still heavy. Derek breathed into Stiles' ear, soothingly cooing.

"What's wrong, Stiles," Derek asked, his voice firm and commanding.

"My dad's been shot," Stiles managed to breathe out.

"Is he alright?" Derek asked.

"H-he's fine. He's sleep." Tears welled in the teen's eyes, threatening to fall. He sniffled them back and wiped them away.

"Well everything will be alright. Everything will be alright."

Stiles calmed down from his panic attack pressing his back into Derek's chest. Hungrily, Stiles manoeuvred himself so that he was facing, and pressed himself into a forceful kiss. He wanted to be lost — lost in love, lost in emotions, lost in the physical, anything that involved Derek's body on his own. Stiles bite down into Derek's lower lip, pushing a growling from the depths of Derek's throat. He slid his hands under Derek's shirt, attempted to doff it without the werewolf's help. Clumsily he got caught on Derek's arms; the werewolf laughed, removed his shirt. He pulled off Stiles' shirt and forced his way into the teen's mouth with his tongue. They both were frantic; Stiles clawed at Derek's back as the werewolf removed Stiles pants and underwear quickly, in one motion. Stiles, naked, pressed himself entirely into Derek enjoying his hardness against Derek's firm body. The werewolf removed his jeans, his hardness pressing against Stiles'. They continued there, deeply kissing; Derek fell backwards, Stiles on top, intwining their legs. They each could feel the other harden, Derek growled, Stiles moaned. The teen left a trail of kisses down the werewolf's chest spending extra attention to Derek' nipple, before clumsily taking Derek in his mouth. He tasted like he smelled, potentially more musky. He had only a basic understanding, but he took Derek in stride. Drawing the man close to his edge before Derek pulled Stiles on top of him again, kissing deeply. His own taste was odd in his mouth. He slid down to Stiles' waist and mouthed at his hardness. He enjoyed Stiles moans and his fingers digging into Derek's back. He growled, it reverberating against Stiles' hardness. Stiles squirmed under Derek's suction, the coffees he had early making the squirming more frequent and desperate.

"So close," Stiles breathed.

Derek pulled himself off his lover, taking Stiles mouth with his own. Derek rolled Stiles onto hid back, grinding into Stiles ruthlessly. Stiles whimpered and moaned, feeling the inevitable conclusion rising. Derek on the hand grew silently nervous, hidden by his poker face. He could feel his inner wolf rising, wanting to taste the teen's blood, his flesh, more gorily. His heartbeat pounded in his throat and it took all his energy to keep his nails from extending and his canines growing. His eyes had shifted red. It didn't take him long to calm his inner wolf, particularly when Stiles spoke.

"Take me," Stiles groaned out. He too was anxious, he hadn't been this far with anyone. He knew he wanted to Derek. The werewolf, luckily for Stiles, could smell the anxiety, the panic, the desire. He gently pulled the teens legs apart, lathered himself with his own spit, and gently pressed himself into Stiles. The teen gasped, feeling the expansion and the pain, but Derek was compassionate, he was gentle. He carefully made love to Stiles, taking his time so that Stiles could adjust. Moments passed between them, the combination of deep ringing growls and moans. Between the two, they both had expended themselves, energy and all. They lay next to each other, panting, and curled into each other. Their hearts raced, their blood coursing hot in their veins. They were sticky and tired, but Stiles lifted himself up to kiss Derek delicately on the mouth; the werewolf smiled into the kiss. Stiles fell down, and snuggled into the werewolf, his mouth against the side of Derek's chest. Derek rustled the covers from the foot of the bed and lifted it on top of them. Derek reached over to the lamp, the only source of light in the room. He switched it off and snuggled against Stiles, his nose against the teen's head.

"I love you," Stiles said.

Derek hadn't had anyone since his parents say that to him. He was flustered for moment, blushing slightly. "I love you," Derek muttered out. "I love you."

***

The Argent home was an ordinary one: cars out front, a well maintained garden, a grand, but simple house. No one would be the wiser, unless of course they knew that Chris Argent was an arms merchant. It gave him a sort of edge amongst those who knew. He appeared kind with something hidden within his eyes, something dark and intimidating. His daughter seemed all smiles, without the darkness, and yet she had some of her mother in her, and Victoria Argent, she was a piece of work, just like Gerard; in comparison, Chris was a rabbit. They were slayers, werewolf hunters with a self-righteous moral code that guided their actions — for centuries the family has been, in the cloak of darkness, killing.

"You shot the Sheriff," Victoria Argent yelled at one of her lackeys.

"But!" one of them said.

"No buts! We can't afford any mistakes," Gerard Argent said coming into the room, Chris Argent in toe. "There is a war out there, and we can't allow for interference." Gerard went to cabinet near and pulled out a scabbard. He unsheathed his English broad sword and pointed it to the throat of the lackey. "You're damn lucky we don't kill our own for stupidity."


	5. Moonlight

Stiles eyes fluttered open. In his sleep the implications of their union had not been felt; the soreness hadn't caught up with him, nor the sheer filthiness of his body, but all the sweetness of sleep crumbled under the weight of awakening. The room was pitch black and without moving he glanced around looking for a clock of some sort. Finding nothing, he wondered what time it was, it was Monday, he had school. Tensing he was debating about leaving, but Derek's fingers wrapped around his waist, securing Stiles by his side. He softly, yet domineeringly growled, stubbornly preventing the teen from leaving him. With some bizarre wolven purr, he hummed into Stiles' neck, before dragging his tongue across the back of the teen's neck and leaving a delicate kiss in its wake. Stiles could feel Derek's limp manhood against him, elevating the blood in the teen's veins.  
  
Derek brought the teen closer to his chest, warming his lover. Stiles could feel the werewolf smile against him, although it didn't help when the pain and soreness caught up with him. He shifted his weight off his arse, forcing a rather indicative chuckle from Derek's throat. The werewolf knew he was feeling discomfort and in some sadistic way Derek enjoyed it.  
  
"You're enjoying your self," Stiles said accusingly.  
  
Another smile. "Maybe," Derek breathed into Stiles' ear.  
  
"Don't get too cocky. I've got to go to school." Derek tightened his grasp around Stiles' waist, securing the teen to him with his supernatural strength. He kissed Stiles, tickling the teen. Stiles continued to speak with increased levity, "I've got a test, I can't miss." Stiles could feel Derek pouting into his back, so the teen shuffled in the werewolf's tight grasp so that he was facing him. Their nakedness pressed together, Stiles let out a soft sigh before pressing his lips against Derek's. "And I need to shower, I can't go to school looking like a used up tissue."  
  
"I think you look rather attractive, dishevelled and sated," Derek said oh-too devilishly.  
  
"What time is it?" Stiles asked, hoping Derek would have an answer. He buried his face into Derek's chest, he didn't want the werewolf having the satisfaction.  
  
Derek twisted to the left slightly, reaching down to Stiles' discarded pants and searched for the teen's phone. He pressed the home button, "Six."  
  
"I biked here," Stiles said.  
  
"I'll drive you, I'll get one of my pack to take your bike home, they won't mind," Derek replied.  
  
Derek loosened his grip on Stiles, disappointed that he had to let his lover go. They both stood up and rustled up their clothes. While they dressed, Stiles observed Derek; taking in the glory that was his lover's muscular body and the triskelion tattooed on his back just enhanced the musculature. Stiles eyes wondered south towards Derek's firm arse and felt the need to claim them, but he couldn't be late, his father wouldn't be happy if he missed a test. He couldn't put his father through anything more, he already was shot. They took the 'secret' passage out and walked to another warehouse near by. Derek's car, his prized black Chevrolet Camaro, was parked inside.  
  
"Do you own all the industrial sector?" Stiles asked jokingly.  
  
"My family had money stored away, and since I don't stay in one place for long, or luxurious places, it just collects."  
  
They drove to Stiles' place and once they were in, Stiles had stripped and was in the shower, the warm water loosening sore muscles. Tears flowed without the teen's approval. He was leaned over, his head directly underneath the shower head, and one arm braced against the wall. A warm hand was placed on his back, Stiles pressed backward into the palm.  
  
"We'll find out who did this to your father," Derek said, his wet naked flesh against Stiles'.  
  
"What if I had lost him, Derek, he's the only family I have," Stiles murmured through tears.  
  
Derek cooed. "I know the actual loss, and no matter what Stiles, I'll be there for you."  
  
Brushing off the subject, Stiles said, "I hope you didn't come in here with the intention of making it even harder to walk."  
  
"I came in here to shower, and since time is tight," Derek replied.  
  
"Of course, time management is crucial," Stiles said sarcastically.  
  
Derek slid his hands down Stiles' hips, taking one finger to press against the teen's hole. Stiles jerked forwards surprised, "I said I was sore!"  
  
Derek chuckled, "I was just checking."  
  
Stiles didn't believe him, the werewolf was just salaciously playing with him. They showered after their toying with each other and once he was out, he placed yesterday's clothes in the washer to destroy any evidence once his father was home. He wasn't sure when his father would return, but he wanted to tell his father on his own terms. He dressed while Derek watched, the wolf studying every inch of his lover's body. He left Derek side momentarily and went to his father's room, taking a few things. He would have to drop things off for his father, or he would be left at the hospital without any proper clean clothes.  
  
"Want me to drive?" Derek asked.  
  
"No, I want to talk to Scott, I have a test and I need to study before my test, and you're my greatest distraction," Stile said. He pushed Derek down onto his bed and climbed on top of his werewolf. Derek took control, wrapped his arms around Stiles and dragged the teen down into a deep kiss. He licked across Stiles' lips before entering. Derek broke them a part and lifted Stiles up with him. He carried Stiles from his room to the front door.  
  
"I probably should walk as much as possible to stop being sore," Stile admitted.  
  
Derek laughed, "Sorry, you can blame it all on me."  
  
Stiles lightly slapped Derek across the werewolf's bicep, wanting to leave a palm mark to leave something of himself on Derek, besides his scent, of course. The werewolf's stoic face was unmoved until Stiles was about to leave when his face grew sad momentarily. As if he sensed it, Stiles turned around.  
  
"On second thought, would you drive me to school?"  
  
It was as if Derek's ears perked up, he smiled in his odd way, and began to pick Stiles up, but Stiles squirmed out of his loose grip. "Derek, I'll need to walk to class and all. And I know what you're thinking, Derek, but you can't carry me to all my classes."  
  
They pulled up in front of the school, Derek leaned over and pressed his mouth into Stiles' neck. He left a hickey-nip-mark that was clearly visible, even if Stiles adjusted his shirt. He moved from the teen's neck to his lips and left a deep kiss there. Several early-bird students became onlookers, gawking. Stiles hopped out of the car, flung his backpack over his shoulder, then bent down to look at Derek through the passenger door's window. "Pick me up after?"  
  
"I'll be here."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Have fun walking."  
  
Stiles blushed, turned around dramatically, and walked away from the car. His face grew sorrowful, he didn't want to leave Derek, he wanted the werewolf to be by his side, even through school. Derek had a way of grounding him, without him, his father was in the hospital, and he had no one to hold him. His test was first thing this morning and he had an hour or so to study. He was glad that Scott never arrived to school early, that would have been problematic. He needed to cram anything into his brain before the test. Yes, he had studied, but he wanted to ensure that he would slide through with an eighty. It was econ. so it wasn't going to be that difficult, even if the teacher said it was going to terribly hard. He walked to his locker, feeling just how sore he was. He was walking somewhat awkwardly, but to an untrained eye it wouldn't be noticed.  
  
"Hello, Stiles," Danny said. "Interesting night?"  
  
Stiles flushed, "Great night," he replied, in a somewhat reminiscently.  
  
"I bet... How is your dad?"  
  
"Thankfully my dad's fine, I went to see him last night, but he was sleeping. I'll check up on him at lunch. Thanks for asking. Oh and thank you for giving such great advice this weekend."  
  
"My pleasure, I'll glad it panned out."  
  
"Anyway, for once all I have to worry about is this econ. test."  
  
Danny nodded, and Stiles was off. He found a quiet place to study and went at it for what remained of the hour. He was in the econ. room by the time Scott arrived. He sat in his usual place near Stiles, but refused to talk with him before the test started. Great, Stiles thought. Now my best friend isn't speaking with me.  
  
Stiles finished fairly quickly and waited outside of the class for Scott to finish. Scott wasn't fast, he took his time since there was nothing on his mind, at least not today. Sure there was the Kanima, but today he had to worry about his school year. He didn't want to fail the year. He was one of the last people out of the classroom, and when he saw Stiles, he booked it.  
  
Stiles caught up rather quickly, "Scott!"  
  
"Leave me alone Stiles," Scott said abrasively.  
  
"Scott, be reasonable."  
  
"Whatever you've been up to Stiles, Derek's the enemy. He's changing people, you saw Eric, Boyd, and Isaac. So why do reek of him?"  
  
Pain shot through him, his soreness sending him back to the memory of last night for only a moment. "Derek and I."  
  
Scott could smell the shot of pain that ran through Stiles, the way it forced out other emotions — not negative emotions, but positive. He came to realization then than Stiles and Derek had been together. "I thought. What about Lydia?" Finally Scott noticed the hickey on Stiles' neck. It was as if Derek had tagged him with the word, Mine. Scott felt some anger towards the mark, towards Derek for leaving such a blatant mark of procession on his friend.  
  
"She'll only love Jackson, or at least, she'll never love me. Derek. Derek does."  
  
"But he's the enemy."  
  
"He may not do things in the same way you do, but you've both led different lives. Honestly Scott, do you really believe that he is so bad? Yes, he was trying to give himself more protection, by having more pack members, but he also saved people from nightmares."  
  
"I know, but."  
  
"I love him, Scott. Please believe at least that."  
  
Scott's eyes averted to the floor, "I'll at least try."  
  
"That's all I'm asking for."  
  
"How is your father?" Scott said, finally returning to their friendship.  
  
"He's fine. He was shot through and through the right shoulder. They've kept him over night, but as far as I can tell he'll be fine."  
  
"You were worried."  
  
"Very."  
  
"Anything I can do?"  
  
"Did your mum lend you her car?"  
  
"Yes, why?"  
  
"Could you drive me to the hospital at lunch? I need to pick up a few things for my dad."  
  
"Yeah sure. What happened to your jeep?"  
  
"Derek dropped me off."  
  
By lunchtime the two teens were in Scott's car driving to the hospital. Melissa McCall was at her desk and was surprised to see Stiles and her son arrive during their lunch break. "How'd your test go Scott?"  
  
"Fine, mom," Scott said, looking bashful.  
  
"Just came to drop some clothes off for my dad," Stiles said.  
  
"Oh Stiles, we're keeping your dad for a little longer. He's alright, but if we release him, we all know he'll be back on the job and his wound needs time to heal."  
  
"He'll hate that," Stiles said.  
  
"We know, but luckily the doctor's given him orders that if he moves he'll tear the stitches," Melissa said.  
  
"Thank you Ms. McCall."  
  
Stiles left the two to go into his father's room. He was awake, reading through case files until Stiles came in. He closed the files, "Shouldn't you be at school?"  
  
"Lunch break dad."  
  
"I must have lost track of time."  
  
"I hear that they've got you here for a while," Stiles said, giving his dad a goofy smile. He adjusted his shirt uselessly, trying to hide his lover's mark. He hoped his father would just write it off as Lydia, he didn't want to have another talk with his father. Those talks were always the most awkward, the most crippling, not to mention this would catch his father off guard.  
  
"The doc's worried I'll wreck the stitches, so I'll be in for at least the rest of the week. You'll be fine?"  
  
"Yeah, dad I'll be fine, and before you ask, I promise not to have any parties."  
  
His dad laughed, "And don't be out late, Stiles. We don't know much about why I was shot."  
  
"Okay, dad, I promise," Stiles said. He removed his backpack and pulled out several sets of pajamas and clothes, and other essentials. "I didn't know what to bring, so I brought a little of everything. I left out the kitchen sink."  
  
His dad laughed, "Thanks Stiles. Now go get yourself lunch."  
  
"Bye," Stiles said, sliding out of the room, but returned to wave goodbye to his dad.  
  
The school day went without a hitch, but toward the end of the day Stiles' mind couldn't keep from straying from his studies — now that was normal, he had ADHD for God's sake, but instead of aimlessly drifting from subject to subject, he obsessed over Derek. The way his odd frown-smile would light up whenever Stiles did something awkwardly; or the way he would growl when he didn't get his way; or the way his eyes flashed red when he was having trouble controlling himself — sometimes that was a bad thing, but when it was Derek, he knew he was safe. God and his smell. His smell took hold of him, even if he was in a crappy plastic seat listening, well not listening, to some English speech about Macbeth or maybe it was Hamlet, but whatever it was it was laden turmoil and sickening-thickening plot. Now back to his smell: cedar, the forest, the wild, and so unbelievably seductive.  
  
When the bell rang, Stiles was out of the room in a flash. He stopped by his locker, quickly only dropping off books that he wouldn't need, he hadn't any homework. He could tell that Scott was adjusting to his new affection for the Alpha of Beacon Hills. He went through the main doors — Derek was waiting, his smile visible from the doors. Stiles practically bounced towards the car.  
  
"Waiting for me?" Stiles asked.  
  
"Get in."  
  
Stiles opened the door and was strapped in within seconds. "I'm still sore you know, and your mark, not to mention the rest of my bruises, made it hell. Every teacher noticed, but the students are worse."  
  
Derek drove out of the school's parking. He seemed to enjoy Stiles' fidgeting whilst the teen spoke about all the people that noticed his love-marks. There was a sort of pride about it. They pulled into Stiles' driveway and got out of the car, Derek once again tried to pick Stiles up, but he continuously prevented the werewolf's advances. Once in Stiles was met by the smell of cooking. He glanced toward Derek before entering the kitchen.  
  
On the breakfast table was several diner biscuits, two individual portion sized ramekins, and a pot full of some type of stew on a trivet. Everything smelled lovely and it made Stiles' mouth water.  
  
"Whole wheat diner biscuits, lavender crême brûlée, and a hearty beef stew. I said I'd cook for you, something gourmet," Derek said.  
  
"Everything looks and smells delicious," Stiles said. He sat down in his usual chair, Derek sat opposite, and they dug in. Derek kept his manners, but he did consume more than Stiles expected he could. By the time they had finished there was still plenty of strew, enough, Stiles ventured, for at least until his father was home. Derek stood up from his chair and helped put away the leftovers.  
  
Quickly Derek seized Stiles, tightening his grip so that the teenager couldn't leave his grasp. Stiles playfully wriggled in his captivity. Derek growled and took Stiles upstairs, taking him to his bed and laying there. Derek slid out of his shirt before laying behind Stiles, pulling the teen closer and wrapping his leg over Stiles'.  
  
"Still sore?" Derek asked in a low seductive whisper, his breath hot against his ear.  
  
"Unfortunately," Stiles said. He sounded and looked disappointed.  
  
Derek brought his hands under Stiles' shirt, releasing an exasperated sigh from his lover. The werewolf began to kiss and lick at Stiles' neck. The teen could feel Derek's jeans tighten and the desperate way he wanted him. Derek was grinding into Stiles shamelessly only for a moment before controlling himself by grinding his teeth, bunching a fist, and extending his wolf-nails into the soft flesh of his palm. His eyes had lit red before the pain, at which point they dimmed down to their regular shade. He breathed on Stiles neck, each breath laboured and withered from the strain on his mind and body. He growled, not to seduce Stiles or to intimidate, but more of a frustrated call towards himself. Stiles shifted, forcing Derek to remove his hands rather quickly. He was face to face with Derek, the heavy breathing werewolf had his eyes shut. Stiles brought his hands to the side of Derek's face, rubbing his thumbs against the werewolf's eyelids. He pressed his lips to Derek's, and lingered there, his lips pressed together.  
  
"I nearly forgot," Stiles said softly. "Full moon's tomorrow." He took Derek's lips with his own again, biting into the werewolf's lower lip, enjoying the groan produced from his closed-eyed lover. Derek allowed entrance to Stiles' tongue which explored him rather clumsily, before he took hold on Stiles' head with his hands, and took control. He was fierce in his attack upon Stiles' mouth, and only broke to give himself time to control himself.  
  
"I'll be with the Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. Will Scott be alright?"  
  
"He's been rather unwilling to allow me to help anymore," Stiles said.  
  
"He just wants to keep you safe," Derek said. He paused before speaking again, "I want to keep my distance from you tomorrow. The full moon brings out the worst in us wolves. I don't want anyone of my wolves to hurt you, nor myself."  
  
"I thought you said you could control the change," Stiles said.  
  
"I'm still learning how to control myself as Alpha," Derek said.  
  
"You'll stay the night?" Stiles looked somewhat distressed that Derek wouldn't be with him and the werewolf could smell the slight fear that grew from the anticipation of his comment.  
  
Derek nodded, his lover's panic only dissipating slightly. "I'd stay if I could guarantee your safety, but I don't think I could control myself."  
  
"Gonna chain yourself up in the wolf cave?"  
  
"No, the chains won't work, even if I oiled them with wolfsbane, I've been speaking with the Vet.. I'm going to attempt to keep myself at bay, mentally and physically. Regardless, just stay here, Stiles. Stay safe."  
  
"The second time I've heard that today," Stiles said, he kissed Derek again before snuggling closer to the werewolf. The teen glanced over his shoulder at the clock, eight-thirty, and the sun was setting in deep orange-red hues. Stiles quickly fell asleep without really meaning too.  
  
The next morning Stiles was awoken by movement. Derek was sitting up in the bed glancing at a framed photograph he had retrieved from Stiles' desk. He was looking at the people: Stiles, his father and his mother. They looked so happy together, and he couldn't help but think about his own family. He let out a drawn out sigh, as he reached over Stiles to leave the frame on the nearby table. Stiles sat up and leant against Derek.  
  
"Picture of my family, before... You know."  
  
"I understand, I might not have many photographs, but the ones I do I keep close."  
  
Stiles jumped from his bed and withdrew a camera, he went back to bed and snuggled right close to his werewolf. "I'd like a photo," Stiles said.  
  
"Werewolves don't photograph well are eyes cause lens flares," Derek said.  
  
"Well then I want two photos," Stiles said rather demandingly.  
  
"Fine, but I take at least one of them," Derek said.  
  
Stiles gave a quick explanation of how to use the camera before giving the device to his lover. Derek pointed it towards them, his long arms making it easy to snap a picture. Derek quickly kissed Stiles, taking the picture then, his eyes open. Stiles took the camera quickly, slightly embarrassed. He aimed the camera towards them and snuggled close to the werewolf's bare chest. He took the picture; Derek's chin on top of Stiles' head for support, and his closed eyes gave way to the expression of tranquility on the werewolf's face. Stiles smiled, popped up and sat on his computer, quickly printing off two regular sized photographs and handed them to Derek.  
  
"Add two more to yours," Stiles said.  
  
Derek took them and admired them before looking at the clock. "You don't want to be late for school, and anyway I've got to remind my pack about the curfew tonight."  
  
Stiles laughed, "Alright alright."  
  
The day passed by slowly; classes had lost their importance, until of course, chemistry. He had to pay attention, he didn't want detention — again. Scott was looking terrible, the moon's pull was weighing on him; Alison looked worried; and he wouldn't speak to Stiles. He was probably going to chain himself up in his room or in the remains of Isaac's house. Stiles' mind lately had been flooded with Derek, but today it was more worry — worry about Derek; worry about the change Derek was going through, mostly because the hunters always go stalking en masse during the full moon. What if he got out? What if Derek was killed? Cut into two by Gerard and his god damn English broad sword. Stiles nostrils flared, an unfamiliar anger grew within him before dissipating. Derek had dropped off his jeep like he had promised, and so he drove home alone.  
  
His house was empty again. No dad. No boyfriend. No best friend. No one. The silence was haunting, so Stiles attempted to keep himself busy since his father and Derek for apparently separate reasons had ordered him to stay home. He did laundry, reheated some strew, and finished off all his homework by twilight when he glanced outside his window. The moon was massive and Stiles could only imagine the pull would be even worse. The drier buzzed, Stiles folded his laundry, and was hovering downstairs for a few minutes. The sun had set, his house was in darkness, except for the minimal light cast through the windows from the streetlights and the passing cars. He frowned — he had nothing better to do, so why not go to sleep and maybe expect Derek to be there in the morning... Probably not, he would be recovering tomorrow. Great, Stiles thought, another day alone. He walked up the stairs, still feeling the embarrassing soreness and pain that Derek had left him as aftermath of their connection. Stiles hadn't minded, he loved Derek and great pleasure was worth pain, especially since it had furthered their relationship; it really solidified it — validated it. Made it real.  
  
He opened the door to his room — a car passed by the house illuminating his room — He saw a shirtless Derek sitting in his computer chair, but before he could say anything Derek red eyes flashed towards him. He leapt from where he was seated and was on Stiles in moments. His firm hands were on the teen's arms, preventing him from moving. Derek took Stiles' mouth with his own more violently then he was used to, but he took it in stride without faltering. The werewolf's breathing was shallow and harsh, he could hear it as Derek brought him closer to his much stronger body. Derek released one of his hands, tore away Stiles shirt with a quick movement, leaving superficial scratches that held no danger to Stiles. The irritation of injured flesh took the teen off guard, but desperate frantic kisses he was being given distracted him entirely. Derek growled and forced Stiles to his bed. The werewolf was on top of him in moments. His hands released, Stiles fumbled with Derek's jeans, effectively undoing the button before Derek removed them. His nakedness, visible in the flashes of car light as they drove by. Stiles couldn't bear it any longer, he doffed his pants with near instinctual precision. Derek was persistent, assertive to a point of dominance, and ground into Stiles. Hardening in a frenzy of thrusts, moans, and growls, Derek grew impatient; his thrusts more desperate, more lustful. He paused then, suddenly as if he was frozen in time. Meanwhile, regardless of what Stiles saw there was inner turmoil, Derek's inner werewolf urging him forward, but somewhere deep down, Derek wanted to be gentle, but the werewolf won. It was the full moon — the wolf held sway.  
  
"More," Stiles said, his voice low and concupiscent, unwittingly tempting the werewolf. His teenage hormones doing their job and coursing through him. He wanted Derek; he wanted Derek so badly, it (stereotypically) hurt. He whimpered wantonly, wanting more than his sore body could truly handle.  
  
Derek let ring a low and long growl that trembled through Stiles as Derek forced open his lover's legs. He leant forward into Stiles, pressing himself into the teen's hips. He trailed marks down Stiles neck, claiming him as his own, through a series of kisses and nips. The werewolf returned his attention to Stiles' posterior. He lifted Stiles' up quickly, giving his lover no time to realize his intentions. Through the combination of sweat and his own fluids, he plunged into Stiles, using his lover's hips to force himself deeper. Stiles jerked forward, the pain was all that hit him at first. He cried out, but he wasn't given any time to adjust. Stiles tried to squirm, but Derek kept rocking himself into Stiles who arched his back shamelessly, deepening their union — each thrust a scream. Waves of pain shook him, tears formed as he felt the sheer size of his lover forcing through him. Derek didn't stop — his kindliness replaced by animalistic rage. Another growl vibrated through Stiles and soon the pain lessened as he violently loosened. Pleasure seized him just as roughly as the pain had come. He jerked forward, arching his back as Derek increased his pace exponentially. Hitting Stiles' prostate, Derek began to grunt intermittently which became faster as his pace increased. Stiles moaned, lifting his head up and wrapping his arm around Derek's neck. The teen grasped at Derek's hair pulling hard enough elicit a low growl every time he tugged. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, lifting him up into an embrace. Using a wall for support, Derek continued his savagery, and with each thrust an exclamation slipped through his lips. Derek held Stiles' arms fast, leaving bruises on his lover's flesh. Derek roughly shoved Stiles against the wall again, grunted, and continued. Stiles full erection rubbed in bounces against Derek's abs, eliciting moans and whimpers. Soon they both came to their peaks; Derek's pace was increased and became nearly, if not, inhuman and Stiles let pass moans. Soon Stiles came between the two of them, whilst Derek with a few even more forceful thrusts, let a roar send shiver's down Stiles' spine. Derek opened his mouth wide and bit into Stiles' shoulder before coming into his lover. Stiles let out a loud moan from both the pleasure of Derek's thrusting and surprising the sheer erotic feeling the bite had given him.  
  
Satisfied, Derek took them both to Stiles' bed and lay on top of his lover before giving a couple final thrusts before extracting himself from Stiles. Within the wake of Stiles' pleasurable sensations, that only momentarily cloaked the pain, the teen could see through his tear-blurred vision. Derek pulled on his pants before jumping out the window, howling, and then Stiles could hear the sound of the werewolf running.  
  
The teen felt used and spent, and he couldn't decide whether or not he was angry or happy. He was still caught up in the aftermath emotions of their sexual union. But, within the emotional fall the pain reawakened and came back with more soreness and now with an add debilitating agonizing pain whenever he moved. Tears formed, he couldn't move without pain. This paralysis of sorts released his shoulder and he screamed, he could feel it. He let all his muscles go and fell back down, he couldn't move. Teared formed, that was all he could do for the moment.  
  
Realizing in steps, Stiles shot up. He had been bitten. He had been bitten. He tried looking at the wound, seeing only the redness that would generally surrounding a bite. He choked on his own spit, the shock forced out of the way by pain. It increased rapidly until he couldn't handle it; ninety percent of pain came from his arse, five percent from the bruises and the remaining five from the wound on his shoulder. He tried to muster the strength to stand, but he couldn't, not yet. If he was bitten the full moon would effect him (not change him) within the hour, not to mention how powerful the moon was this evening; it even drove Derek's will to bend. Derek had been born werewolf, and he had extreme self control for he had bore it throughout his twenty or so years. It couldn't allow his home to be broken a part by his own hands if he was turning. He had to make it to Derek, and he prayed that he hadn't been truly bitten. But what would be so bad? The Argents would always been on the hunt for him and his pack, but he could be with Derek without him worrying if he would hurt him. A little bite would mean nothing, but more pleasure, and he didn't want to think how hot a full bite would be. With the worry of turning and the expansion in his pants from his lascivious want for Derek, he stood up; feeling how sticky he was and feeling the effects of gravity upon all the fluids on and within him. He slipped on a pair of jeans and tried to put on a shirt, but the pressure on his wounds was unbearable. He clenched as he walked, pain wave after pain wave, but he kept trekking. He lifted his arms over his head again, the bruise or the bite twinging. He cried out, gritted his teeth, and pulled his red hoody on. He winced as he kept moving, biting his lips as he went down the stairs, each step sending jolts of pain through his body. Step after step, shock after shock, until reached the door. He grabbed his car keys and house keys before leaving his home. Once in his jeep he was off down the road, each pot hole or grate a wakeup call.  
  
He was careful to shake any tails, if there were any. His dad had taught him, his dad had taught him a great number of things. He got out of his car, his jeep still running, unlocked the code he had memorized, and parked his baby-blue jeep next to Derek's. He was thinking about which entrance to take, the front or the back. He could feel the tension in the air, whether it was imaginary or he could really feel it, he didn't know. He walked into the forest, keeping his eyes on anything that moved, he couldn't take chances. He was careful when he slid into the tunnel, he made sure not to disturb the hatch too much, keeping the leaves attached to its surface. The only obstacle was the dresser in the room that blocked the entrance into Derek's room. By some feat or miracle he moved it out of his way; the strain on his muscles did him no good, pain made itself known within him, but he grunted and moved it back once he was in the room. The door had been bolted from the inside, Derek had went out the back before he had left here last.  
  
Stiles sat down on the bed, right in the middle near the headboard. He stacked Derek's pillows behind his back and waited. He could hear the howls, growls, and clawing from the other room, it was loud enough to be from three werewolves. Who knew where Derek was? He could feel the blood drenching his pullover from his shoulder and every time his body involuntarily clenched or he moved his arm he, depending on the severity, would either whimper or cry out. He could hear the werewolves trying to break free from their chains, but they held firm.  
  
Slowly, unaware, Stiles slipped into sleep, his eyelids flickering as he tried to keep himself from sleeping. When the morning came Stiles was even more sore, but the pain had become familiar, a burden he had to bear. The bite twinged, he didn't know what to do about it. He shuffled slowly, soreness his greatest obstacle, and took his phone from his pocket. It was eight in the morning, and so he dialled his father. The hospital switch board would make it nearly impossible to track his location.  
  
"Dad," Stiles said. He hacked out a cough.  
  
"Stiles," his dad replied. "How are you? You sound sick."  
  
"Yah dad, I think I've got a cold. Could you call the school? They don't trust me much."  
  
"Sure thing. You did stay home? All night?"  
  
"All night, thank you dad, I'm gonna get some rest."  
  
Stiles let out a withered exhale, before adjusting himself again, could keep in one spot for long without the soreness or pain returning, or his ADHD acting up. He closed his eyes to gather his strength.  
  
Meanwhile Derek awoke at his own old home, he scrambled and picked himself off the floor. He ran as fast as he could away from his old house. The hunters would always check for a weakened wolf in the morning, and his old house used to be his haunt after all. The taste of blood presented itself in his mouth, it was familiar, but not animal. It was Stiles'. He flitted through the forest, his feet moving as fast as his human form would allow. He reached Stiles home quickly, and got in through the window. Using all of his senses he was forcing the memory of what had occurred back to the surface of his mind. Within minutes he collapsed to his knees; the weight of grief on his shoulders. He stood up, his eyes seemingly glistening from the formation of tears that couldn't quite roll pass the rims. His stoic face broke into uncertainty that truly marked his age. He wasn't more than a young adult, with only a few years between himself and Stiles. He had only been out of high school for a few years before his return to Beacon Hills.  
  
When Derek arrived at his liar his pack at been freed from their chains and he scowled at them. "I could have sworn I locked these and laced the lock with wolfsbane powder." His pack glanced towards his room and he followed their silent instruction. Stiles was on his bed, in his red pullover and his jeans sleeping, but his face was not that which Derek had seen whenever he slept next to him. He looked disturbed, as if he was suffering. Derek used his senses, smelling the fear, the panic, the pain — and the blood. Stiles awoke then, looking towards Derek unencumbered, still caught in the haze of sleep. He blinked and then opened his eyes wide.  
  
"Derek!" Stiles exclaimed.  
  
"Stiles! I'm so sorry. I... I wasn't myself. I couldn't —" He climbed on top of the bed, crawling on all fours till he was in range of Stiles at which point he sat in front of him. He reached out, put his hand on Stiles shoulder. Stiles jerked backwards.  
  
Derek's facial expressions saddened, "Are you afraid of me, now?"  
  
"No," Stiles retorted. "You need to control yourself better next time. I'm not saying I didn't eventually enjoy it, but look at the state of me. Now help me with my sweater." He pulled off his sweater, needing Derek's helped when it came to getting it over his arms. Suddenly, once his sweater was off Derek could see the true extent of the injuries he had inflicted on Stiles. His eyes started from the bruises on Stiles arms before seeing the bite. Meanwhile the teen had come to terms with his bite, if he was going to turn, he was fine with it. He was fine being Derek's. Derek saw the bite catching them both off guard. Stiles thought Derek remembered everything, but when he saw Derek's face, he knew that it had surprised them both. Derek didn't hesitate before his tongue was on the teen's wound, noticing the old hickeys and the new that littered his lover's neck as he went towards the teen's shoulder. He licked across Stiles' wound, tasting the blood and checking for infection.


	6. Outlawed

One words. Derek only said one words. In context the word was ambivalent — It could mean either-or. He said, Sorry. One of the most abstract words in the English language and he chose it. His face was unreadable to Stiles, he searched and searched for what he meant. Was it infected? Was he infected. Was he going to be a werewolf? Would Derek no longer have to worry about hurting him? He wanted to laugh, he wasn't some teenage girl with a vampire paramour that could snap her like a twig through byronic happenstance and turmoil. He was just Stiles and he wasn't going to sit idly by and he was no sappy lovestruck hormonal teenager — or at least not entirely. Out of all his friends he was the most level headed, a bit odd, a little erratic, but he still reasonable. In his own way he was like Scott, he wanted to jump his lover right then and there, but he wouldn't let it fog his judgement. Scott believed, even with Alison's great agility and mastery over the bow, that she wasn't able to defend herself, but Stiles knew she was able to, he knew that Scott should put his faith in her and not just consider her as his lover. That was how he felt about Derek. Stiles knew that regardless of their relationship, he had proved himself to be more than just a pretty face. He had already prepared himself — if he was going to be a werewolf this would have been the way. An act of love between them would have been the ideal moment for him to be bitten, in between the floods of desire and abandon. Peter had offered him the bite — simply asked, as if it were a favour, but he had rejected it, tearing his arm away. He was seventeen for God sake, and when offered power he wanted it, but it wasn't enough to trump his logic — the cold logic that ran through him like the werewolf blood in Derek's veins. But for Derek, for the love that resides for him in the depths of Stiles' heart he would accept it willingly. He wanted power, Peter knew that, the bastard could hear it, but he remembered that at what cost would he gain it; now, awhile since Derek became alpha, he didn't lust for equality between him and Scott, or even the desire to be better, what he wanted was someone who could understand him — someone to be a part of, something to be a part of, for as a human in Beacon Hills there was not lot of options... Just two, either risk your life or stay unaware. The hunters (even though they were human) had been honing skills for ages, but Stiles didn't want to be a part of their harmful quest. He knew exactly what werewolves were capable of, but he knew that there could be control amongst the animalistic savagery. As human, he was bound to their frailty, even if he had been helpful, he would never be Scott. He could never have Derek's back in the same way that Scott does, but a bite — the bite could change all that. The bite would be gift.  
  
"Sorry?" Stiles said.  
  
"I'm sorry I bit you, Stiles, but luckily you haven't been infected. It's just a superficial wound, not in the blood stream."  
  
Stiles momentarily looked disappointed, "That's good. I've called my dad and told him to tell the school I won't be there." Stiles paused, "I'm sick." Stiles let out a rather disingenuous cough.  
  
"Disappointed?" Derek asked. He licked at Stiles wound again, tasting the blood. He was a werewolf after all and if he wasn't going to have Stile's flesh, a lick or two of blood would do no warm, particularly when he could feel Stiles tense and a sigh escape him. Derek continued his lapping at his lover's wound, the metallic aftertaste explosive, his wolven tastebuds taking in the subtle and unique flavours. He glanced up at Stiles, his eyes puppy-like: innocent and playful with an undertone of impish delight. He left a slower lick, grazing ever so gently across the wounded shoulder. Stiles moaned, the pain that inhabited the wound was suppressed by pleasure.  
  
Stiles squirmed for a moment, "Stop," the teen chuckled out.  
  
Derek continued, licking seductively across the wound, "You know my price."  
  
Stiles weakly pushed Derek off his shoulder, the werewolf instinctively following the teen's lead. Stiles with some difficulty, do to soreness and pain, was on top of Derek. He pressed into Derek's lips, which instantly took hold of his. The werewolf smiled and broke from Stiles, "Toll accepted. We might want to bandage you up a little. The bleeding has nearly stopped, werewolf bites are very clean, unless of course you've been infected. We should probably just wrap some bandages and lucky for you werewolf saliva has antibacterial properties."  
  
Derek lifted Stiles up, slowly lowered the teen down before getting up and riffled through a couple of his drawers. He extracted a roll of white cotton bandages and a pin before he returned to Stiles' side. He careful wrapped Stiles shoulder and pinned the bandages in place. "There. Now, why were you disappointed? You want to be infected? I remember you telling me that you were too smart for such things."  
  
"Exactly. I was only disappointed that I bled on my favourite pullover, that's going to be hell to clean," Stiles said. "So now that you've got me all to yourself today, what do you plan on doing with me?"  
  
"I can think of a few things," Derek said as he lay down next to Stiles who adjust himself so that he was pressed right close to Derek's chest, right above the heart. Stiles could hear Derek's heartbeat and he waited to hear what he had in mind for them to do.  
  
"Well," Derek said, he nuzzled into the top of Stiles' head. "I was thinking we could just lay here."  
  
"Is that all," Stiles said skeptical.  
  
"Maybe," Derek said, his coy little smile-grin popping up on his face.  
  
Stiles shifted so that he could look up to Derek, seeing his smile the teen couldn't help, but smile back. Stiles slowly picked himself up and got closer to his werewolf's face. "Maybe, hmmm..." Stiles lay a kiss against Derek's stubbled cheek before taking the werewolf's mouth. Stiles just stayed there, lips on lips before Derek's tongue demanded entrance. They fought each other, but Derek sought control and won.  
  
A knock sounded, "Derek... Ah, and Stiles, could you not. We're all stuck here recuperating," Erica said through the door.  
  
"I don't think they want to catch mummy and daddy at it," Stiles joked.  
  
Derek laughed. "So you let them out, I assume?"  
  
"Well I couldn't keep them leashed, besides I can now add unhooked burnt out werewolves after a full moon to my list of firsts."  
  
"I bet that list as expanded since I got back in town," Derek said.  
  
"Haha," Stiles said jabbing Derek in the ribs with his elbow. "Oh and by the way, those chains won't last another full moon."  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
"They got destroyed this time around."  
  
"Let's hope you're wrong, I don't have any more."  
  
"So, within their restrictions, I suppose we could just lie here as you had planned?" Stiles said, his disappointment more evident than when he was trying to conceal it.  
  
"Cocky, even though you're bruises and battered," Derek said. He saddened, his face momentarily drawn to a look of remorse.  
  
"Oddly enough I don't blame you, Derek. It must be hard to take on the role of Alpha, I am thankful you protected Scott from it."  
  
"It's not good enough, Stiles. I could have killed you. My anchor during the moon has always been anger, it helped me grounded."  
  
"For now, Derek, just stay with me," Stiles said cuddling right close to Derek's side as he could. Derek's arm that was underneath Stiles wrapped itself securely around the teen, allowing for the blood to circulate as it should have been. Derek leant his head down and kissed Stiles' cheek, before, for once, he fell asleep before Stiles, the evenings change had taken its toll. Stiles could tell that Derek was still upset, in his sleep his face grimaced as if he still bore the weight of his actions last night. Stiles shifted only a little, making sure to not wake his lover. He lay a kiss on the werewolf's lips, softening the discomfort on Derek's face. Stiles lay back down and fell asleep, enjoy the radiating warm the werewolf provided. Even in his soreness, pain, and filthiness, he wanted to remain there with Derek. Enjoying the moments of peace before whatever evil lurked out there, whether Kanima or Argent caused them grief.  
  
"Gerard, long ago I helped your family take out something that was more beast than human, even I could not stop it. It saw no reason — it gave no reason — it had only blood as its wanton desire, but not all werewolves are the same. Not all want blood, it may be in their primal wolven nature on the full moon, but you and I both know that with an anchor they have their humanity."  
  
"They've killed Kate, we do not idly let one of our own die."  
  
"The Hale's boy and his pack have done nothing wrong, and all that awaits you by trying to kill them is suffering."  
  
"At their hands!"  
  
"No! Gerard. At your own. You cannot taunt another creature of pride and expect no retaliation. You have hunted them because you had the necessary skill, I know that there may have been those that had shed human blood, and for their crimes they were owed death, but those who have done it out of necessity, out of fear, is of your own doing." The man who spoke was dressed in a black cloak that gave the impression that there was nothing but a void where the man's face was supposed to be. Light from the window danced, illuminated the man's mouth, dispelling partially the shadows. In his hand he held a staff, it was bleached mountain ash, and looked very old inscribed in triple binding runes and near the head, a triskelion burned into the wood. Gerard moved quickly to his desk, the hooded man's hand blanched as it tightened around the staff.  
  
Gerard removed the sword from the top of his desk and withdrew it from its scabbard. "Fine craftsmanship, sharp as a scalpel. I bet it works just as well against you."  
  
"Do not threaten me, Argent. No blade I forged could cut me."  
  
"I'd give it my best before having you killed."  
  
"You're not going to keep me away through threats, Gerard. Now, it's been absolutely lovely, but I do believe it is time I take my leave. I'll be back, and know that I'm always watching."  
  
Stiles awoke, the soreness and pain minimized, but still there, and forcing him to wince as he moved a little. He glanced over towards Derek's patch of photographs, their photographs now an addition. He smiled, and glanced up at Derek, his sleeping face was different than that whilst he was awake. His age presented itself there, in that dormant face. It was obvious that he had a very difficult life and it forced him to grow up faster than normal. Stiles couldn't imagine being hunted, alone, for so many years. He glanced at their pictures and smiled before nuzzling his nose into Derek's chest.  
  
"I'm not afraid of you, but maybe I was," Stiles whispered. He chuckled under his breath, closing his eyes and just inhaled. Right then and there everything was perfect — that moment, no hunters, no one but the two of them. Anger flourished in him, a ship crashing against the rocks of his heart and fracturing; the remnants swirling in the whirlpool of his mind. Why was it that whenever he was happy people were taken away from him. His nostrils flared and his breathing was ragged. He calmed, "Why is everyone slowly taken from me." He closed his eyes. His eyes grew hot, the cold air of the warehouse had made them cold, even if his body was being warmed by Derek's. Tears' heat expanded underneath his eyelids, before spilling down his cheek toward his chin before resting on his werewolf's chest.  
  
Hands moved and cupped Stiles' face, thumbs brushing away the tears. Derek moved Stiles with ease so that their foreheads rest against each other's. "What's wrong?" His voice was like an anchor, weighing him down to the moment. His actions were soft, and he couldn't help but remember all the times he had been rough. A smile darted across Stiles' face.  
  
"It's nothing." Derek didn't look satisfied with his answer, "Derek, I'm just happy."  
  
Derek gently kissed Stiles, taking his mouth with his own so very gently. Stiles closed his eyes.


	7. Consequences

The rest of the day had been spent in Derek's arms, his warmth the only comfort for Stiles. He stretched as he awoke, and Derek rose from the movement. He seemed to smile while he heard Stile groan as muscles released their tensions and cracked.  
  
"I think I need a shower," Stiles said. He could feel where the previous night's aftermath had dried and was now sticky.  
  
"I don't think you need a shower," Derek wrapping his arms around Stiles, protective and caging.  
  
"I doubt you feel as filthy as I do."  
  
"I like that you smell of me," Derek said cuddling right close.  
  
"That's fine, you can rub yourself all over me, as long as I can get a shower." Stiles laughed. Derek frowned, "Besides, Derek, I'm sure you're hungry and there is still leftover stew."  
  
"You make a good case, as so long as I can rub myself all over you," Derek said with a devilish grin. "But you have to promise you'll let me carry you."  
  
Stiles flustered, he didn't need someone to carry him, he wasn't weak, but the gesture was appreciated and Stiles nodded to his werewolf, "Fine."  
  
Within minutes Derek was in a shirt and had helped Stiles on with one of the werewolf's larger shirts. Stiles picked up his sweater from the ground before Derek pushed away the dresser and they meandered down the passage toward the exit. In no time they reached the surface and Derek picked him up and carried him to his jeep.  
  
"Want me to drive?"  
  
Stiles sighed and got into the driver's seat, unlocking the other doors for Derek. When they arrived at Stiles' home his werewolf was outside his door. Stiles was in Derek's arm within seconds, he locked his jeep before the werewolf took him into his house. He let Stiles out of his arms so that he could sit down at the breakfast table. Derek was in the fridge rummaging through the containers and bottles of water; he reheated the strew and glassed the bottled water. He dragged a chair so that it was beside Stiles, and set up their food with cutlery and everything. They ate rather quickly, Derek with his manners intact ate tons and with such speed.  
  
"Hungry, aren't you," Stiles stated.  
  
"As Alpha I turn into a beast if I lose control, it takes a great amount of effort to keep myself from losing myself — and even now it wasn't enough. Anger, my anchor is no longer touching bottom."  
  
"I'm sure you'll find a new anchor, you were born a werewolf; if anyone can change, it would be you."  
  
"You have so much faith in something you haven't any clue about."  
  
"I do not need to be a werewolf to know that you'll find a way. When I first met you I thought you were a royal ass, you repeatedly kicked my ass, but through all those trials, I love you. And I have faith in you, Derek. That's all I need to know that whatever happens, you will find a way."  
  
Stiles got up from his chair, his monologue seemingly weakening him. He climbed the stairs, only to be picked up and taken into the bathroom. Derek turned on the shower's water and adjusted the water so that it was just right. Stiles undressed, feeling no embarrassment as he bared himself in front of his lover. He went to Derek's side, and with a grace that the werewolf didn't think Stiles had, the teen removed Derek's shirt and doffed his pants. They stood there, naked, their bodies pressed together with their arms woven around each other.  
  
"What's gotten into you," Derek said, a look of concern on his face.  
  
"I realized that I love you, sourwolf and that comes with consequences."  
  
"Consequences?"  
  
"Worry, Derek. Worry. So long as the Argents hunt you, so long as they hunt our pack there will always be worry." He smiled into Derek's chest, his face so familiar with his heat and musculature. Derek's face froze, his heartbeat increased as he heard the words our pack. His cheeks gave way to a flourish of rose blush and his nakedness became more prominent.  
  
Stiles broke from Derek and went into the shower, the water against his flesh soaked him in moments. Derek followed. Derek, soap in hand, cleaned his lover, paying special attention, by being irritating slow, around his cock and arse. Stiles pushed into Derek at each touch, and jerking forward or backward depending on where Derek was.  
  
"I can wash myself," Stiles said irritated. "I'm not a child, I'm not useless."  
  
"I know, but I enjoy watching you squirm."  
  
"So that's why you've been treating me like I'm five."  
  
"Partially, and because I want to take care of you, I love you."  
  
"Well Mr. Wolf, I love you too, and you don't need to take care of me to prove it." Gaining boldness, Stiles dropped to his knees, and approached Derek's manhood in a similar way a predator hunts its quarry. He took the man with his mouth, teasing the werewolf with everything he had. His tongue darted playful while his mouth did most of the work. He took Derek as far as he could, humming while he enjoyed Derek's attempts to convert his moans into growls. His werewolf rested his hands on Stiles' shoulder, his bandages made to hold up against water, before taking a hand and placing it on the back of Stiles' head. He pressed down on the teen's head, Derek's massive nakedness pressed deeper into his mouth. Taking him in stride, Stiles continued, his tonguing driving the werewolf to the edge. Derek pulled out from Stiles' mouth, regretfully feeling the unique warmth departing. The werewolf reluctantly brought Stiles to his feet. Their mouths met in a frenzy, Derek tasting himself in Stiles mouth. The werewolf's tongue toyed with Stiles'. They ground into each other, their erections pressing against the other's.  
  
"I want more," Stiles said, through fervent moans and passionate kisses.  
  
Derek chuckled darkly, "You and I both know that wouldn't be good." He was well aware that Stiles was trying to prove himself.  
  
Stiles' nodded, his arse clenched which shot pain through him, then jumped into Derek, wrapping his legs around the werewolf's waist. The teen jerked himself into Derek, his cock so very hard and close to climax. He took Derek's mouth, his wounded shoulder twinging deliciously. He bit down on the werewolf's bottom lip, trigging a growl that shook through the teen's entire body. Derek kept one hand wrapped around Stiles' body, which tightened when he released one hand to place it behind Stiles' head, deepening their kiss. Stiles came between them, a series of moans and groans passed through his lips. Derek increased his pace, his grinding more animalistic in desire. Derek let ring a howl that once again tore through the teen as he came in between. Stiles slide down Derek's torso, slipping through the werewolf's grasp and dragging his tongue down the curves of his lover's abs. Derek brought him back up, and let the water rinse away the aftermath. He soaped the pair of them before, twisting Stiles around to kiss him slowly under the beating of the shower head.  
  
"When did you manage to grab a pair set of clothes?" Stiles asked as Derek pulled on a clean pair of jeans.  
  
"I've got quick reflexes, I had a clean pair of jeans while you were fumbling around for your sweater," Derek said.  
  
Stiles laughed as he slid into pair of boxer-briefs before laying down on his bed. He was tired, but he wasn't going to let that hinder him. He had brushed and flossed, and so he was ready for sleep, even if it came unexpectedly. Derek switched off the lights before settling into Stiles bed, using one of the teen's pillows to support his head.  
  
"Tell me Stiles, could Lydia be the Kanima?" Derek asked. "You've known her for the longest right?" There was a tone of jealousy in the werewolf's voice.  
  
"She was my first crush, and so I don't think I can be impartial. There will always be that little part of me that crushes on her, I mean that's the way with everyone's first crush, or at least so I've been told."  
  
Derek frowned.  
  
"Don't be jealous, Derek, I love you."  
  
The werewolf growled.  
  
"Don't be such a sourwolf. I don't think Lydia is the Kanima, but I've never been on her radar, not for long away. She only confides with Jackson." Derek was still pouting. "How can I convince you, I'm yours?"  
  
Derek's signature grin-smirk-smile grew on his face and Stiles turned so that he was facing his werewolf. One of Derek's hands reached around and brought Stiles' closer to him. He forcefully placed a kiss against Stiles' lips before gaining entrance and taking the teen for what he was worth. He wrapped his legs around the teen's smaller body, and smiled as they broke the kiss, panting out before going at it again.  
  
"Mine," Derek growled out between kisses.  
  
"Your's," Stiles breathed out.


	8. Wicked

Stiles woke with the sun that shone through his window, it was just a little after six and he wasn't in the mood to wake up had it not been for Stiles' realization that Derek's presence was absent from his bed. He shot out of bed, his ears listening for any sign of life in his house. "Derek," Stiles whispered out. When there was no reply, Stiles got irritated, if not slightly worried. He tore through the upper level of his house, no one was there, and he had his way toward the kitchen. Finally, as if some great sign, he smelt the aroma of something delicious cooking. A sigh escaped him, when he came into the kitchen. Derek was sitting at the table, a stack of french toast plated in from of him and a plate, cutlery, and glass waiting for Stiles.  
  
"Derek!" Stiles exclaimed, hearing his own panic in his own voice that he was sure his lover would pick up on.  
  
"Morning Stiles, worried I had left?"  
  
"A little," Stiles said as he brought his chair, plate, and whatever else along with him so that he was right next to Derek. He took a bite of french toast before moving closer to Derek, swallowing just before he lay a kiss on his werewolf's lips.  
  
"I won't ever leave you."  
  
Stiles broke it, "Unfortunately we can't just spend the rest of the day like this. I've got school." He blushed, Derek's words taking hold of him.  
  
"We'll just have to make it up later this evening," Derek said.  
  
Stiles had expected more resistance, but regardless he was glad Derek hadn't been mad at him. He had basically told him that a little part of his heart would always be crushing on Lydia, that was just a fact, but maybe Derek had listened to what Stiles had said, that the teen loved him, no one else. Stiles smiled and took another large bite of his toast.  
  
"So Stiles, are you positive that Lydia isn't the Kanima, you know we can't let that thing kill anymore people; it could go after one of us next."  
  
"Derek, I told you. I don't think she turns into a lizard. She's cold blooded, yes, but I looked into that creatures eyes and only saw evil. I would have known... At least I think I would have known if it was Lydia."  
  
"Okay," Derek said. He grew quiet, and Stiles could tell he was thinking about what he had just said. Stiles finished his toast rather quickly, his plate drenched in syrup and he was happy to take another from the stack.  
  
"Oh!" Stiles said, coming to a realization. "My dad will be back tonight. Probably late, I could come to yours, I'll say I'll stay with Scott for a sleep over or what not. Okay?"  
  
"Sure," Derek said offhandedly, only registering that he wouldn't have to climb to any windows this evening. Stiles went in for another kiss, Derek reciprocated reluctantly, his thought must have been obstructing him. The teen broke the kiss again before popping out of his chair and rushing upstairs. He threw more clothes into the washer, including Derek's before going into the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth, and get ready for school. He had his backpack packed within seconds at which point the washer buzzed to signal it had finished. Stiles in a rush put them all in the dryer before checking his room for any evidence of their union. Nothing. He was glad. His father would be home sometime in the morning and he would only stop by to change his clothes, shower maybe, before going back to work. The drier buzzed, Stiles folded everything and dividing the clothing. He ran down the stairs, backpack on his back, and Derek's clothes in his hands.  
  
"Okay wolfie, I'm off to school. Wanna come, or you gonna go off and deal with whatever's on your mind."  
  
Derek rushed to where Stiles stood, and picked him up. He kissed Stiles with everything he had before letting the teen back down to solid earth. His lover took a moment to find his balance, the kiss had thrown him off.  
  
"I need to talk with Erica and the others, you don't mind?" Derek said.  
  
"Not at all, I understand there is a lot on your plate."  
  
"Thanks." Derek threw his arms around Stiles, and drew himself close to Stiles' ear, his warm breath taking the teen into a near hormonal mess. "Be at my place by 12. Or I might just turn into the big bad wolf." He licked across Stiles, gapping lips before plunging into a deeper kiss.  
  
"Promise?" Stiles said, dizzy, but able to open the front door. "See you at 12." He followed Derek out, locked his door, before jumping into his jeep and revving the engine. He pouted softly as he watched his werewolf start to run toward the forest, disappearing within minutes. He sighed, and then backed out of his driveway.  
  
On route his phone rang, "Hey Stiles."  
  
"Hey dad, I'm driving to school. How are you?"  
  
"Fine, Stiles, but I thought I should tell you that the charges against Isaac, Isaac Lahey, have been dropped."  
  
Stiles eyes grew shocked, "Thanks for the information bad. I'll be on the look for anything hinky."  
  
"Stiles... I just thought you should know, keep a safe distance from him and all. We still don't know who killed Isaac's father."  
  
"Thanks, dad. Oh, I'll be spending the night at Scott's, we've got to do some studying before the weekend, get an early start."  
  
"Okay Stiles, drive safe."  
  
"I will dad." Stiles ended the call, before probing his mind for any reason why the charges would be dropped. Had Derek left last night, or earlier this morning? Had his pack been outside his house? He would have to ask Derek before the end of the day.  
  
He arrived at school, locked his car, and went hunting for Scott, he had to tell him what his dad had just disclosed to him, but when he reached Scott, in class, Isaac was already there. The rest of the day had gone uncomfortably slow, and by Chemistry everything was on. Derek had orchestrated a test to see if Jackson and Lydia were the Kanima. His nostrils flared and he grew irritated if not completely angry. Why hadn't Derek confided in him, but he hadn't the time to think it over. He had to protect Lydia, even if she didn't like him, he still was fond of her. Derek wasn't going to kill her period, nor did he think that he was doing it simply to see if she was a Kanima, maybe some sick way of dealing with jealousy. Stiles snorted, he was going to give his werewolf a talking to. They, Scott and Stiles, had planned for Derek not to back down and when they had been prove right, they moved to Scott's house for a 'study' group session. Derek had been waiting outside, it was getting dark, and there he had to make one of the hardest calls of his life. Allison was unaware of Derek and his relationship, Scott had been kind enough to let things take its course on its own, but she had her one-handed crossbow and she was going to shoot someone. He told her to aim for Derek, preferably the head, Scott had caught one earlier, Derek would have no trouble, but Allison was smart. She knew Derek would have no problem, so she told Stiles so... They were going to shoot one of the younger ones. Stiles closed his eyes, but Isaac had come in through the back stopping the awful decision. He was violent, however, and tossed Stiles aside with ease. When everything was done, they knew it was Jackson, and Stiles stood by Scott and Allison, his 'pack' with a little frown on his face that Derek picked up on. Before the police arrived, along with his dad, his lover was gone, along with his pack.  
  
"I told Dad that I'd be spending the night," Stiles said to Scott, who had just watched Allison leave, after they had explained to the cops that there was an intruder that had taken nothing, because they had arrived. Stiles' father seemed alright with the answer, and left without little more than a hug and a goodbye.  
  
"Give him hell, Stiles," Scott said, as Stiles got into his jeep as he watched his father's cruiser go around the corner.  
  
"I plan on it," Stiles said, his anger building. He tore out of Scott's driveway and head the opposite direction of his father. He wasn't going to be stopped or asked any questions, he needed to speak with Derek. He went home quickly, stealing away one of his dad's bottles of jack before driving to the warehouses, circling as he always does to prevent the hunters, if they were following to get lost in the maze of storage spaces and such. He parked his jeep next to Derek's car, he placed his hands on its hood — the warmth remained. Derek had just returned from his betrayal. He took a swig from the bottle, building up the nerve to confront his werewolf. Another swig after another after another. Stiles, using the shadows to his advantage, stole into the forest taking the path into Derek's room with some stumbling movements. Once down into the service tunnel he removed his shoes, he wasn't going to make any noise. When he moved the dresser it was with everything he had to open the way and to keep quiet. He snuck through the door and was glancing through the subway car.  
  
"We tested Jackson, and yet he is the Kanima. Be wise you can't go head to head with it. That falls to me," Derek said to his pack.  
  
"I just want to get my revenge on the hunter bitch," Erica said, she was still recovering from the venom Allison had laced her arrow with. Boyd only have a slight heavy chuckle, he was quiet and served well as a pack member, but was not one to speak without reason.  
  
"And Stiles?" Isaac said.  
  
"What of Stiles?" Derek asked.  
  
"Him and Allison were debating which one of us to shoot. He even suggested that they defend themselves, even shoot you in the head."  
  
"For someone who loves you, and whose scent is on you, and through this den, he doesn't show it," Boyd said breaking his near ritual silence.  
  
"If Stiles suggested it there must have been reason," Derek said, his words resonating with confidence that even Stiles in his hiding could hear. The teen moved suddenly, wanting to expose himself to the pack meeting he had snuck into. He accidentally knocked into a chair, sending a ring through the craft and fumbling in his drunken tipsy state. Derek let out a roar, his face shifting along with his eyes, and the rest of the pack. They all turned to face him, their eyes aglow and menacing.  
  
"No need for t-theatrics," Stiles slurred out, trying to be falter at the sight of so many werewolves waiting for the chance to take out an invading target.  
  
"Stiles?" Derek barked.  
  
"W-who else?" Stiles retorted. He turned to Isaac, "I suggested Derek's head because he would be looking for a f-frontal attack, it was Allison who suggest taking out one of the smaller, lesser betas." The betas snarled towards Stiles.  
  
"That huntress bitch is on my list," Erica said, shifting back to her regular face. "I've got to go Derek, you and Stiles can have your spat. I need to get home."  
  
"Me to," Boyd said before following Erica out.  
  
Isaac on the other hand had no home to return to, and it had only occurred to Stiles then that Isaac had probably been living with Derek since his father's home had been under police watch, and the unhappy memories. Stiles blushed, what exactly had the beta heard.  
  
Derek could smell the discomfort on Stiles, and chuckled darkly before sliding between a set of doors to reach him. "It's 11, I didn't expect you hear so soon."  
  
"You attacked my f-friends, what was I s-suppose to do? F-follow the agreed upon time, and act like nothing was w-wrong!"  
  
"Stiles, that thing tried to kill you, tried to kill me, our pack, how can you let it live? Because it was Jackson, you said yourself that it was pure evil, that it didn't have an ounce of Jackson in it." Derek tightened the distance between them and reached out to wrap his hands around Stiles' shoulder. The teen recoiled.  
  
"By s-stalking us to Scott's house and confront us I had to make decision I didn't want to make. What if Allison had k-killed one of you, what if she had killed you? What would I do then?" Stiles turned around and headed back to Derek's room. "It was a mistake coming here." His voice gave Derek the insight that Stiles was on the verge of tears; they clutched like luminescent pearls in corners of his eyes and then gave way to their own weight.  
  
Derek followed, closing the door behind him before he reached Stiles who had been remarkably quick and was just about to move the dresser, but the werewolf grabbed him, pulling him back into a tightening hug. Stiles fought to break three, squirming violently, and he now had managed to be facing Derek and he pounded his fists into his lover's firm chest. "What if you had d-died! What if you couldn't just heal it off. What, fucking, then!" Fists struck Derek a couple more times before the teen broke down into him, wailing, tears melting into the fabric of his shirt. Derek let a hand weaken his hold on Stiles, as he lifted Stiles chin up. He gently kissed Stiles, the taste of booze on the teen's lips. Stiles took Derek more frantically, he forced the werewolf gentleness to depart him so that he could reciprocate the intensity. Stiles slid through his werewolf's grasp, not breaking their passionate kissing, and wrapped his arms around Derek's body. He was allowed to force Derek on to his bed, Stiles falling with him so that he was on top. Putting his hands between their bodies, Stiles undid the button of Derek's pants, unzipping zipper and wrapping a hand around Derek's manhood. A rubble shook through Derek's chest and resonated with in Stiles, meanwhile Derek took control of the kiss, his tongue domineering. The werewolf could feel Stiles' tears still flowing, pressing into his face. With considerable effort, Derek managed to remove his hands, Stiles still latched onto him. He, with the same amount of grace, removed Stiles pants and underwear in one movement. Stiles let his hand slide off Derek's cock that had grown in size considerably since the teen's hand had worked on him. They ground into each other, thrusting in sync, each curve replicated oppositely as if they were made to fit together. Stiles balled his fist into Derek's shirt, his knuckles blanching, it took Derek's hands to release Stiles'. He took the teen's hands in his own, before directing them to his shoulders. Stiles followed his lead, placing his hands on his werewolf's shoulders, just as Derek managed to remove his shirt and with his wolven nails, shed Stiles' shirt from his body. Stiles would have been pissed had he not been drunk or in the thralls of desire. The remains of his shirt clung to his body, his bandages poking through (a constant reminder to Derek of how close he had come to seriously injuring his lover), and his shirt only shudder as Stiles and Derek pulsated together in their copulation. Stiles had his senses about him, even if he was drunk. His inhibition and his cold logic had gone dormant and his raging desires were let to have their way. Derek was taken, Stiles was forceful, angry and it was incredibly hot. Their passion raged as Derek assumed was Stiles' anger towards him after he had, for a lack of a better word, hunted his past crush. The werewolf took hold of Stiles' mouth, forcing his way through. He let rip a growl that took Stiles and his remaining anger away and turned to complete desire.  
  
"Mine!" Derek said, the possessions of Stiles in his tone and in his actions along with a wolven deep grumble.  
  
"More!" Stiles replied, his wanton lust dripping from the one word.  
  
Derek obliged, his manhood hardening as he manoeuvred Stiles on top of him. He erection poking into Stiles' rear, the accumulated sweat and fluids preparing the both of them. Frustrated, Stiles reached behind himself, directly Derek with his hand. Feeling Derek's presence within him, Stiles put his hands back onto Derek's shoulders wrapping his hands around his werewolf's neck, before arching his back, and pressing his face into the space between Derek's neck and shoulder. Stiles breathed in his lover's musk, cedar and the forest.  
  
Slowly at first, Derek slid in and out of his lover, the soft warm confines harding the massive wolf entirely. Stiles tightened deliciously, the once sore teen now accepting him more readily. As soon as Stiles was used to Derek, he forced himself deeper giving no time to recuperate before he slide in and out. Stiles cried out. Moans departing his mouth over and over, as Derek grunted and growled, an orgasmic melody. In the throws of their union Stiles opened his mouth, biting down on Derek's shoulder, digging his teeth into Derek. A roar pierced through the werewolf, followed by Derek taking a hand and keeping Stiles' head where it was. Stiles bit down again, the rush ridiculously fuelling as both Derek thrusted deeper and faster, and Stiles to arch into each thrust.  
  
"So close," Stiles cried out, breaking his lock on Derek's shoulder. The teen's erection rubbing vigorously against Derek's firm chest.  
  
"Together," Derek said, increasing pace to something supernatural.  
  
Within minutes, both Derek and Stiles cried out, the aftermath of their union between them and within Stiles. Derek's hand brought Stiles' head towards him. They brought their lips together, taking each other's mouths, a whimper departing Stiles as his lover withdrew from within him. The teen broke the kiss and slid down next to Derek. He took Derek's nipple into his mouth, a rumble from his werewolf was given before letting himself rest. He closed his eyes, sated, his anger dissipated. In his drunken state he crashed into sleep, quickly unable to keep his eyelids open, even though he wanted to. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, his lover's aftermath still on his chest, and his breath still laboured. He fell asleep.


	9. Remedy

"There is a Kanima out there," Gerard said. Even though he was in his later years he was still menacing just by the way he appeared. His face was stern and his eyes were cold and calculating; there was an evil about him that was unquantifiable and every time he popped those pills those who knew of his darkest deeds, feared him, or knew of him and desired his death, rejoiced, hoping that by some act of God, he would die. None of them knew whether or not those pills were for something fatal or something serious. He unsheathed his sword, the silver craftsmanship, with it's cross hilt and rounded tear drop pommel. "If we cannot control it, we will destroy it. I've already said damn the code; we hunt to purge this world of them. For Kate." The light caught the glimmer of the silver, it's blade sharp and stronger than the eyes could tell. "Tonight, we're going to patrol! Alert Chris and I if you spot it. Go."  
  
Meanwhile beyond the Argent house — beyond the epicentre of malicious and injustice that resonated from within and tainted the entire town, night was going to break. What was good to balance the bad? It was not the werewolves, within neutrality they were a questionable middle ground considering that some kill, on purpose or otherwise, but those that didn't out numbered those that did, therefore they remained neutral. The hunters, even with their code, were murderous — that gave no mercy to werewolves and given the chance, would give no mercy to any other creature. Blood was on their hands and damn those who killed without reason, without proof of murder, without proof... Just vengeance; an element of pride that Milton gave to Evil. You are not allowed to affront justice without paying a price nor can you unbalance it.

 

* * *

  
  
The sun had yet to rise, but not everyone was sleeping. The veterinary clinic had its back room's lights on and from outside one could see movement from within. The back room, the operating room was alight and the vet, Alan Deaton and Ms. Morrell were speaking.  
  
"I was wondering when you would come and see me," Alan said.  
  
"Everything takes its time, I took mine."  
  
"We have much to discuss, but I believe we have an old friend intruding on our reunion," Alan said as the back door of the practice opened. Ms. Morrell went into the front of the building.  
  
In stepped a boy. He was twenty one or may closer to twenty-three, it was hard to tell with the way his eyes conveyed an age far greater than what was apparent. He was pale like paper and dressed in a flattering black suit that flaunted his body. His thin, seemingly expensive, black tie was held against his dress shirt with a silver tie engraved with filigree. He entered the room with a certain power in his step, the leather shoes on his feet giving his sets a certain ring.  
  
"Well don't you look sharp," Alan said.  
  
"I'm preparing for my new job in town," The mysterious man said.  
  
"And what are you calling yourself this time?" Ms. Morrell said as she entered the room.  
  
"Ah, mademoiselle Morrell, quelle surprise. Enfin, j'ai espéré nous nous réunirions encore," said the boy.  
  
"Your french is still sharp, but that wasn't an answer," the lady said.  
  
"I go by Aidan, Aidan Knight. I'll be taking over the English department at the high school, working along side you, I believe Ms. Morrell."  
  
"Why are you here?" Alan asked.  
  
"I thought you'd be happy, Alan, to see another friendly face," Aidan said. Ms. Morrell gave a melodic laugh.  
  
"I believe Ms. Morrell has summed up our general disbelief, isn't the rumour true that you were the one who originally gave the Argents their start," Alan said.  
  
"You left out forged the very sword that Gerard uses to this day," Aidan said.  
  
"Alan we should at least give him the benefit of the doubt."  
  
"I've made my mistakes, foolishly I thought that I had to do something, but I've created a monster with many heads. At the time they threatened my family, but I should have done something once she was safe."  
  
"Argents are not the only hunters," Alan said.  
  
"No, but they have the most gumption," Aidan said.  
  
"Enough of this, did you bring me anything," Alan asked.  
  
Aidan went to the door and retrieved a bag he had left outside the door. He withdrew an antique wooden box, engraved with many symbols, seemingly celtic. Inside were vials of dried herbs and ashes that Alan thanked Aidan for before they finished their conversation.  
  
"I warned Gerard to keep away," Aidan said.  
  
"I doubt he'll listen," Morrell said.  
  
"For as long as I've known him, I agree with Ms. Morrell. There is no chance in hell he'll stop."  
  
"We've got made promises, Alan," Aidan said.  
  
"We best keep them," Alan said.

 

* * *

  
  
The sun brought forth the beginning of the new morrow. Although no windows were in the lower levels of Derek' den, there was an understanding that morning had come. Isaac awoke before his Alpha and Stiles. He removed his earplugs, he had been thankful for them. He was no homophobe, but the way the noises reverberated around the den was awkward to listen to, maybe it was time to find a new home, one that he could bring a lady-friend to without the obvious creepy rundown warehouse motif and where their sounds would not be heard by one other than himself and whomever he brought home. He wondered why Derek hadn't just renovated his old familial home — maybe there were too many memories there, whether it be the fire or otherwise. Derek could at least afford a decent apartment, closer to town, or maybe another home somewhere on the other side of the forest. He supposed that the obscurity of their den was important, there was enough room to keep four werewolves tamed during the full moon, and enough room to easily lose a hunter within the walls and not to mention the maze of buildings that surrounded this place. No hunter was likely to follow anyone here, not without guidance by a werewolf or some other scent-following creature. Isaac walked into the main room of the building, the one with the subway car. He stretched before he went towards the exit, maybe Erica would be up, it was only eight, but she was surprisingly an early riser. Oddly enough Isaac found a certain kinship with Erica, not just because they were pack, but something he just felt. He left den, looking out for anyone, sniffing the air to ensure that no one was around. He left and headed towards Erica's.  
  
Meanwhile, Stiles arose his head rattling, his hangover providing a headache and nausea. He let an exasperated sigh, he was so very glad that the room was lightless, and that there was practically no other noise besides Derek's steady breathing and his own. Fully awake now, he noticed Derek's arms had secured themselves around him and the werewolf's legs around his own. They were not confining, and yet he couldn't move away, and he loved that feeling, the feeling of being bound to Derek, physically. Stiles, with the utmost grace and delicacy, moved so that he was facing into Derek, the arms and legs that held him in place allow him to. Warm, against Derek's flesh, Stiles' headache was drowned by his werewolf's scent; impulsively he wanted to drag his tongue down the peaks and plateaux of his body, retrained only by the sound of his lover's breathing — that steady exhale, inhale, that would drag him back into sleep if he wasn't carful. Why the hell not, Stiles thought. He let his tongue glide across Derek's chest, starting delicately from his pectoral and going until the werewolf's bellybutton before going back to his lover's pectorals, encircling each nipple before taking the left into his mouth and applying suction. Stiles nipped at his prize, which only then produced a groan from between Derek's lips. One of Derek's eyes opened, glowing red from the blood pressure Stiles had undoubtedly caused to rise. Stiles glanced up, his eyes so innocent and seductive, which was an odd yet delirium-lust-inducing look that pulled blood toward his loin. Stiles was already semi-erect and it pushed into Derek's burgeoning manhood.  
  
"Not even nine and you've already planned a sordid day," Derek said.  
  
Stiles licked his lips, smirked, and went back to suckling Derek. He paused to take a breath, "I don't know what your talking about sexywolf. Since we're dating—"  
  
"We're dating?"  
  
"What else would you call this?"  
  
"Then we're dating. Gonna bring me home to your family?"  
  
Stiles blushed and became flustered, "Well. Ah. Do you wanna meet my dad? I mean. Sure. Ah."  
  
Derek laughed, "If I knew asking you about this would cause you to squirm I would have asked soon or maybe kept it on reserve for later."  
  
Stiles calmed a little, he really needed to take an Adderall. He was having trouble focusing. "No. No. I'd be glad to introduce you to my father."  
  
"You do realize that your 17 and I'm 24, the age difference will put your father on edge. Who knows he might even charge me."  
  
"In Canada the age is 16, and I'm sure if I tell him how much I love you, he'll just give you warning to be good to me forever or he'll crush you."  
  
Derek laughed, "Back in New York, the age is 17. Each state is stupidly different."  
  
Stiles licked across Derek again. "You don't talk about New York at all. Did you like it there?"  
  
Derek sighed, "The only time I had a life was in Beacon Hills, and as it happens, my life is starting over again where it ended." Stiles smiled into Derek's chest.  
  
"So you know about my crush on Lydia. Tell me, Derek, I get the feeling you're not so new at this," Stiles said.  
  
"New at what—"  
  
"This." Stiles bucked into Derek, pressing their nakedness against each other.  
  
Derek for once blushed, or at least his cheeks for just a moment looked slightly pinkish. "When I was your age, someone about my age now, took advantage of me... And I just hope that isn't what is happening here." Stiles glanced up into Derek's eyes, there was a sadness there he couldn't place.  
  
"Not at all Derek, I chased after you, remember."  
  
Derek smiled, but gave no answer. It took him a moment to say, "So how are you going to introduce me to your dad?"  
  
Stiles tensed, "Good question. Can you give me a couple of days to think on it?"  
  
"As long as I eventual do meet your dad, I don't want to be the sketchy older man hitting on the teenager behind their parents backs."  
  
Stiles giggled under his breath before drawing himself closer to Derek and lifting himself into an embrace. Derek's arms kept him secure, while Stiles arms were close to his chest. The werewolf brought his face close to Stiles', sharing each other's breath before Derek took hold of Stiles mouth with his own.  
  
"Can I be the sketchy teenager then, who seduces the older man for a mature... 'Time'."  
  
"I thought it was always the younger sketchy man that was a gold digger?" Derek said, smirking.  
  
"Well you do have money," Stiles said, goading his lover.  
  
Derek laughed, "I've known you long enough to know you don't want anything."  
  
"Well there is one thing I want," Stiles said.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
Stiles took Derek's mouth with his own, opening his mouth for his werewolf's tongue. "You," he breathed into Derek's mouth.  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"Besides having you all to myself?" Stiles asked, his words sparking a possessive-seductive rumble from Derek's core. Stiles figured that Derek liked that he took possession of his werewolf, and maybe, just maybe, that meant that he was Derek's. His head ached, but he was going to press onward.  
  
"Well you've got that, are you sure there is nothing else?" Derek had such a coy smile plastered on his face, and Stiles couldn't help but blush.  
  
"You could get a cellphone. Now. Before you say anything, I know you trashed Scott's cell once and he's always had an obnoxious ringtone, but at least have one while you're here. I've got one, it gets reception down here, and because of dad and a little of my own, it's not traceable. We could even get you a disposable cellphone if you'd like. Although I'd prefer the ability to text you. And. And. It wouldn't be such a bad thing, so long as you only use it here, right? It wouldn't be a distraction like it was for Scott."  
  
"So long as it can't be traced, that'd be alright. It would be good for the pack to be connected."  
  
"Bring me a phone tomorrow and I'll have it prepped within the hour; now I do believe you and I have unfinished business," Stiles said, pressing himself closer to Derek.  
  
"I believe we do," Derek said taking Stiles' mouth softly, their lips pressing together delicately. "But first I wonder, how is your hangover?"  
  
"I didn't intend to get so drunk before coming here, I was angry and I wanted to stay that way."  
  
"Did I really upset you that much?"  
  
"Well at the time you pissed me off, you could have told me. I'm not sure it was the right thing to do, but now we know who it is... I suppose I'll let it pass; but from now on, trust me."  
  
"I—I'll try."  
  
Stiles smiled, so long as Derek tried to trust him there was something to hope for. He didn't expect much from his werewolf, he knew that their current relationship was formed from a hotbed of lust, and watered by their continuing emotional and situational similarities; but both knew it would grow, it would become lasting and the first step for them both would be to trust each other unconditionally. Trying was a start for Derek, Stiles knew that. Derek wanted honesty, maybe one sided honesty from Stiles and that would explain why his werewolf wanted to meet the Sheriff, his father. So that they could have a relationship that was sanctioned, even though Stiles was old enough to make his own decisions, by the authority that Stiles remained under. The age gap between them may be approximately seven years, but what was seven years to an adult, nothing. Stiles felt that at seventeen he could make the decision on his own, but maybe Derek needed this confirmation, and Stiles would give him at least that.  
  
"Well good." Stiles freed his legs from Derek's loosened legs, giving the teen the ability to wrap his legs around his werewolf's waist. Derek's manhood pressing against his rear, and hardening as Stiles slid back and forth as he got comfortable.  
  
"Well aren't we the little sketchy teenager," Derek said, wrapping his hands around Stiles' and forcing the teen's head to get close to his own. He pressed their lips together, sliding his tongue across Stiles' lips before forcing entrance into his lover's mouth. Derek let go of Stiles' head, guiding himself into Stiles. A whimper escapes the teenager's mouth, the tip of Derek's manhood opening him very gently. Derek stayed there, gave Stiles a kiss, giving his lover time to adjust to him. Derek thrusted deeper, whimpers from Stiles came forth, but the teen lowered himself into Derek, their chests flat against one another. He wrapped his hands arounds Derek's neck, lifting his head momentarily to looking into Derek's eyes conveying his approval to continue and unbeknownst to himself making Derek aware of just how desperate Stiles was for his affection and for him. There was something in the way he looked at him that made Derek realize that Stiles needed him. That Stiles wanted Derek to trust him, wanted Derek to trust someone.  
  
Derek put a stop to the flood of emotions, his body tensed and he picked them both up, rolling over so that Stiles had his back pressed against the bed with Derek fully pressed into him. A moan flew from his mouth, engulfing Derek's hearing before he began plunging himself in and out. He turned his emotion into a kind of rage that urged him forward, pounding into Stiles mercilessly, enjoying each sound his lover made as he did so. It had been that rage that had made Stiles' bite so indescribably provocative; it was animalistic and so very similar to his desire, his wolf's desire to devour Stiles whole. Derek had a high tolerance for pain, he was a werewolf after all — he was used to it, and so when Stiles had bit into him there was this surge of endorphins and dopamine that sent his body on edge. He let his blood pressure rise, his eyes flashing red as Stiles blushed, the teen's eyes full lust and wanton desire. Sweat graced Stiles' body, beading on the teenager's flesh. He arched his back, deepening Derek's increasingly quick thrusts. He let out a moan that resonated through Derek's body. Stiles' nails dug and dragged along Derek's back, bringing forth a growl that just made the teen dig deeper. His hands wondered down Derek's back, tracing the tattoo before making way to his werewolf's spines that under the pads of his finger was slick with sweat, which made it easier for Stiles to made his way to where he wanted them to be. He squeezed Derek's arse, a roar rumbled in his chest, Stiles hands slid as Derek moved in and out. Each time he was close he would grab at Derek, every time a growl was given.  
  
Their chests rose and fell with each thrust and breath, a synchronized dance between them. Fitting together perfectly, Stiles' hardness rubbing achingly between them, Derek's cock pressing into his prostate, sending raptures that curled Stiles' toes and a gasp to pass through his lips. Stiles traced Derek's scratchy jawline with his tongue, dipping below onto his clavicle , before making his way up, trailing his tongue as he did so. He took Derek's earlobe into his mouth, biting occasionally for the sheer pleasure of enjoying his werewolf's grumbles. Along with increased stamina, Stiles was learning and Derek was eager to test his lover under his... Unique brand of scrutiny.  
  
He moved Stiles head aside and clamped his teeth as gently as possible into Stiles' wounded shoulder. The taste of bandages was unpleasant, but the sensation and Stiles' vocalized reaction was near far too much. There was this cross between a moan and scream that drove Derek's wolven-animalistic mind close to the break. He tried anger, but he couldn't bring himself to harm Stiles, not even bite down a little harder there was far too much risk. The bite was a gift, he couldn't force it on Stiles (even though he had a hunch Stiles would accept it to be closer to him) it hadn't been a choice for Scott (that didn't turn out well, he hated it) and even though he didn't want to admit it, he was born werewolf, there was no choice there. He wasn't going to force anyone to take it, nor was he going to have someone so enthralled by him — whether it be because of him or because of the sex — do anything, say anything because of him. He wasn't going to be like her.  
  
Back to reality; he thrust deep into Stiles, bringing their mouths together in a squabble of tongues. After their duel, Derek took another nip at his lover's shoulder, being gentle. It was so odd for him to be so, for as long as he could remember after the fire his life was a violent streak. He would get his way through violence and through intimidation, and yet here he was, feeling something he hadn't felt for a long while. Was it real? He thrusted continuously, taking his lover for what he was worth, replacing emotion with sexual desire. Derek bit down harder, not breaking the skin, but the tension was there and with any more pressure the skin would fall to his molars. His werewolf was persistent in his drive, more sweat formed between the two and in the rush of all motions, Stiles came hard against Derek. Soon after Derek pulled out from his lover, a whimper and a panic-stricken look took him. Derek ground between them, his erection pressing against Stiles', the teen's aftermath slicking their way. Derek growled, coming between them in a haze of animalistic desire and something he had been experiencing all along. He kissed Stiles on the cheek, laying on top of him, the teen's smaller body seemingly caged by his werewolf's much larger frame. Derek, still in the throws of sex rubbed his head into Stiles' face, his hair meeting his lover's clean-shaven face. Every movement seemed to be about marking him with his werewolf's scent. It was a possessive move on his part, and Stiles for once was very proud of his research had proved to be fruitful. Wolfs marked their territory through urine and he was very glad that Derek was choosing another method because that was not his thing. Derek was arched into him, he was so close to Stiles, pressed close enough that the teenager could swear he was being crushed. Derek quickly eased up, picking the teenager up, so that Stiles was on top of him.  
  
Stiles gazed down into Derek's eyes, the postcoital moment between the two of them spoken without a word, but in between each laboured breath. And what pray tell was between those breaths? A smile, a chuckle, and Stiles pressing himself into Derek, hugging him. A moment passed between them, Stiles with his head resting on Derek's shoulder, his eyes closed, his nose tucked into his lover's neck. Derek looked blankly forward, the moment not lost on him. He was tense, until he let his head rest on Stiles' shoulder, his eyes following the line of his lover's spine. They rested there.  
  
But unfortunately time was no on their side. Ten minutes had passed and they had yet to move, until, of course, Stiles' cellphone rang. Derek let Stiles slid through his grasp, a frown grew on the teen's face, Derek had just simply let him go. He found his cellphone amongst the detritus, and answered it quickly.  
  
"Dad, what's up?"  
  
"Have a good night?"  
  
"Y-yah," Stiles said, blushing as he thought back to the other evening and that morning. "Although," Stiles added as he was drawn back to reality, "Scott's couch was a little lumpy, but we did get a lot of studying done. I even made him notes."  
  
"Good good. Gonna be home for lunch?"  
  
"Probably not, gonna go get some coffee with Scott and his girlfriend before coming home. Although Scott's still asleep. Not sure how long it'll take him to actual move."  
  
"Coffee? That can't be good for you. You left your Adderall here, do you want me to bring it to you?"  
  
"N-no d-dad, I'll be fine."  
  
"Stiles."  
  
"What..." Stiles groaned, and made a face.  
  
"I thought you said you got over the fact you have to carry Adderall, and you said the kids weren't giving you a hard time."  
  
"Naw, it's just as of late I'm not having such big problems."  
  
"Okay, but if you need me I'll be around."  
  
"Okay dad, thank you. Love you."  
  
"Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Stiles hung up the phone, he turned toward Derek, "He sounds off," Stiles said.  
  
"I'm sure everything is fine," Derek said. He inched closer to Stiles, unsure of how to act around his lover other than the obvious talk and sex. This was intimacy he was unfamiliar with. The werewolf put his hand flat to Stiles' back and the other by Stiles' knee.  
  
"I'm gonna visit him regardless, you don't mind?" Stiles asked.  
  
"No, no of course not," Derek said, he could feel and hear the lie. "You could talk to him about me." Stiles flustered at Derek's words. His werewolf smiled, enjoying himself far too much.  
  
"S-sure," Stiles said. "Let me take my time with this, but I promise I'll tell him soon." Stiles grew sheepish, "Okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Now on more pressing news, it seems you've torn my shirt and my pants are not fit for public viewing, how I'm supposed to get clothes? Let alone get out of our den?"  
  
"You could borrow some of mine," Derek said, a smile-grin plastered on his face, both with his demand and that damn word, our. He grunted before speaking clearing away emotions that were surging again. "I think I've got some old jeans that are slightly too small for me, a belt, but you'll have to deal with a loose shirt, alright?"  
  
"Alright."  
  
Derek got up from the bed, his body sticky from sweat and aftermath of their union. He towered over Stiles as he stood and went to his dresser. He rummaged through his drawers and withdrew a hand towel and knelt down between Stiles' legs. With his towel, Derek wiped across Stiles' body before spending far too much attention of Stiles' manhood. He was gentle, but not aggravatingly slow as to cause arousal, although his lover was frustrated wanting maybe another hour of them together, but there was far too much to do.  
  
"At this rate," Stiles said. "I might be irritable all day."  
  
"I'm just making sure you're clean, I don't think anyone would like to leave feeling sticky and/or debauched," Derek said. He fished under his bed, withdrew a bottle of water. He soaked a corner of the cloth in water, going over every part of Stiles with it. Derek picked himself up and went through his drawers taking out everything Stiles would need. The teen dressed quickly, finding the fact that Derek's clothes were clean odd as he fit into Derek's clothes. Everything was loose, thankfully the belt tightened his waist, the t-shirt was baggy, not that anyone could see because Derek had also given him a black hooded zip up sweater. Stiles bunched his lover's sweater closer to his face, inhaling the scent he was so familiar with, that oh-too intoxicating cedar and forest. He let this sweater drop before Derek approached him and encaged him with his strong arms.  
  
"You smell good with me on you," Derek said.  
  
"Possessive are we?"  
  
"Very," Derek said, as he took Stiles' mouth with his on. "Now, don't be late, I don't want to get in trouble with your father so soon." Stiles let out a small laugh that really didn't sound very much like a laugh, but more of a puff of air. Derek could feel the tension, but he let it pass and he separated from Stiles to move the dresser out of the way. "Go, tonight I'll find you. I promise."  
  
Stiles went through the passage, looking back to see Derek with a halfhearted smile on his face as he pushed the dresser back into place. His last glimpse of Stiles was met with a melancholy that forced him to sit down on his bed. Why had Stiles said he was going to go directly to his father? His possessive nature wanted him to follow his lover, and so he took off. He went through the main passage and then watched as Stiles jeep pulled out of the storage unit before he popped back out to close it and lock it. Derek followed from the shadows of buildings, he was proud, proud of Stiles' effort to conceal the den's location. He was glad the woods surrounded a great portion of the town and it made it easy to follow Stiles. Eventually as the path became clear, Derek's stoic face grew into a frown. His eyes, unreadable let a glint of recognizable distress pass as he jumped over a fence into the cemetery. A lot of his family had been buried there, most of them had died in their human form. For that he was glad. He hadn't visited since his arrival in town; a part of him believed his parents would want him to visit to mourn them and yet whenever he thought back of his mother, or to the rest of his family, they wouldn't want to him to forever mourn their loss. Even Peter, corrupt and ignoble would not want him to bear the weight of the fire alone.  
  
Stiles pulled through the winding road and parked. He walked slowly, Derek knew that his lover knew where he was going. It took him a moment, a moment longer than he would care to admit, to realize — no to remember — that Stiles too had lost his mother. From the trees he watched Stiles sit near a tombstone, and with his wolven hearing, unbeknownst to the teen, he heard what Stiles' was saying.  
  
"Hey mom," Stiles said, a regretful smile graced his face and for once Derek could see just how injured Stiles was behind the sarcasm. "I wanted to come by, I know you can't answer me, but being here helps me think." He laughed. "Look at me. Dressed in his clothes. I feel so comfortable in them. Like he's always by me." He paused. His eyes shot toward the sky, the sunlight catching the tears. "Mom, you wouldn't mind would you? So long as I was happy? What would dad think? I mean with surrogacy his line wouldn't die... Isn't that what all fathers want? Is that what dad wants?" Tears fell, "I don't know how much he loves me, but I love him mom." Stiles drew his knees to his chest and wrap his arms around them. "He's older mom, seven years... Will dad care, do you?... Does Derek?" There was a pause as Stiles sniffled back tears and wiped them away with his balled up fist. He placed his hand on his wounded shoulder, the layers of clothes a barrier. "Derek wants to meet dad... I plan on letting it happen. I hope he doesn't over react."  
  
Derek moved from the woods, running to be behind Stiles. The teen could sense a presence, he didn't turn, he just sniffled and went silent. "Uh." Derek said not sure how he was supposed to talk to the dead. "Hello Mrs. Stilinski. I'm Derek, Derek Hale." There was a pause before the werewolf spoke again. "I'd like to be with Stiles. A-Ah. To date your son." His words were quick, seeming as if they were said out of the spur of the moment, or at least were unprepared. He sat down next to Stiles and wrapped an arm around him, bring his lover closer. He struck a silent promise there, I will protect him.  
  
"Derek," Stiles breathed out.  
  
"You know we both have something in common. We've both lost people we love. The others don't know that feeling."  
  
"I'm sorry Derek."  
  
"I'm sorry too Stiles."  
  
The teen sniffled back for the last time and let out a little chuckle. "You know I think she would have liked you."  
  
"I believe my mom would have liked you as well. She always supported the purpose who didn't seem like much, but in reality they were the mainstay."  
  
"Derek?" Stiles put an arm around Derek and tightened his grasp. "Thank you."  
  



	10. Careening

The darkness of night descended upon the scene on which there was running. The sound of metal against something hard met their ears, and out that sound came forth Derek. His face transformed while he was protecting himself against the paralytic power of the Kanima's claws with a sheet of metal. It seemed hopeless, or at least Derek thought so. He was giving his all, and yet that wasn't enough. Soon out of the hail of sparks shorn off the metal a new presence rose from the darkness; Chris Argent unloaded into the Kanima, the bullets doing nothing, not even fazing the beast. Derek had disappeared, thinking, no wondering why the Kanima had chosen to attack him so close to his den. He worried about the fact that the hunters were so close to his packs headquarters, not to mention close to where he met with Stiles on a regular basis. If the hunters got word of their relationship, whether they believe it to be sexual or platonic, they would use that person to get to him; as it stood they believed Stiles to be associated with Scott, and as long as that was all they knew that would benefit Stiles' safety greatly, not to mention being the Sheriff's kid didn't hurt. But was it enough?  
  
Meanwhile Scott and Stiles were driving towards the fight, they had been following Chris Argent on Allison's suggestion. It had worked until there was a bed of nails preventing Stiles from driving, so Scott jumped out of the car. Scott arrived the Kanima was near Gerard, and without hesitation Scott threw the Kanima away from the old man, his threat against his mother ringing in his ears.  
  
From a higher vantage point, Aidan watched the scene unravel, and watched as the actors flew from the wings. It was curious how everyone acted when no one thought someone was watching, but the night was far from over. Scott tore after the Kanima — after Jackson — unaware that Stiles was following in his jeep. They arrived at the Jungle, just a little too quickly for Aidan, but regardless he followed. They broke into the nightclub, which was Aidan's clue to follow them the legitimate way. The music was pulsing, the club was abuzz, and Aidan watched everything unfold. Becoming part of the fray of dancing, drinks, and music.  
  
The Kanima was hovering over everyone in the rafters, stalking Danny remorselessly. Stiles bobbed his head to the music drinking his (just) coke with his straw. This was the last place he thought he'd be, but naturally he had to follow Scott and help him whenever possible. Soon people were dropping, the Kanima's venom taking effect. Derek eventually arrived, his face transformed and his eyes red, but Stiles doubted anyone would notice in the chaos. With quick reflexes Derek used his claws to tear open the Kanima's throat. Derek glanced at Stiles, looking perplexed momentarily before having to run as fast as possible to get away from the crowd before there was trouble, he thought he had slain the Kanima, he thought he was successful. He would love to hear his lover's explanation for being there that evening, even though his werewolf already knew he was following the Kanima with Scott, but to see Stiles squirm was divine.  
  
However, back at the Jungle, Stiles was dealing with his own problem. His father. This was definitely not the way he wanted his father to find out he was involved with any other man. He had decided that he was bisexual, yes, but he didn't want his father to find out because he was at a gay bar. No, he wanted to be the one to tell him, and he wanted to be the one to introduce him to the Derek he knew, not the potential murderer that his father had temporarily imprisoned.  
  
"Not exactly your type of club," Stiles' father said, his look of disbelief plastered on his face. He wanted to hear how Stiles was going to say to get out of trouble for being at another crime scene.  
  
"Ah...," Stiles said, if he was going to do a mock coming-out conversation this would be it. "Well dad. There is a conversation we—"  
  
"You're not gay," his father said.  
  
"I could be!" Stiles said indignantly.  
  
"Not dressed like that..." Which was met with Stiles feeling rather inadequate about the way he dressed, in his typical high school grunge. Through more conversation Stiles eventually gave his dad the best lie he could. He was there with Danny, to take his mind off his recent break up. That got his dad, and Stiles was happy that the lie worked, but his mind was racing. His father didn't believe he could be gay, which was basically a statement that shook him, bisexuality still meant part of him was gay, and thus he was feeling more worried about how he was going to break Derek and him to his father. Furthermore, now they had Jackson he his jeep, and they had to find away keep him from killing another.  
  
A new dawn broke, Stiles and Scott had spent all night dealing with Jackson, Derek wasn't going to be pleased. His werewolf had promised to find him, and yet he had a suspicious feeling that Derek had discovered he was helping Scott deal with a still alive Jackson, but Derek didn't know it was Jackson. When morning light hit, Stiles felt worse, he wanted to see Derek, and he also wanted to deal with his father, but now that he had stolen a police prisoner-escort van, he was not going to get a desired response out of his father, and by nightfall on that long day, Stiles was served with restraining orders, that bastard Jackson had his father draw up against him.  
  
Meanwhile back at den, Derek required the help of his betas. He knew that Stiles would never divulge the name of the Kanima, he had tested Jackson and Lydia was miraculously immune to both the venom of the creature and to the bite of an alpha. He need either Isaac or Erica to get close to either Stiles or Scott, Erica had this odd hatred for Stiles, maybe it was jealous or maybe it was annoyance. She chose to get close to Derek's lover. Who knows, Derek thought, maybe Stiles would slip and tell Erica something. He couldn't harm Stiles, or at least not in a way that could get information, but Erica could. He felt nauseous about that decision, but he had to protect his pack, that included Stiles, even if the teen was unaware of how much that name could mean to Derek's ability to stop the murderous creature, that had been inches from Stiles and could have killed him. If his lover wasn't going to protect himself and if Stiles wouldn't let Derek protect him, he was going to get the information one way or another. He was possessive, Stiles was his, Erica knew that, so whatever she did would be governed by that rule. Seriously injure Stiles and suffer his wrath. Derek didn't have time to train his pack to shift on will, he was going to be alone with the Argents and the Kanima on the loose. The Kanima was killing people, that was the priority, the Argents had some predictability, but the creature... It killed, that was the sole purpose of its existence. Erica actually managed to deal with the entire problem; Stiles had inadvertently through his bothering Lydia about Jackson clued Erica in to that fact that it was Jackson. This was too easy, Erica thought, but Stiles followed.  
  
"You can't tell Derek!" That was all Stiles said to her as he followed her.  
  
"I used to have the worst crush in the world on you..."  
  
That would explain with her irritation towards Stiles, first it was Lydia that was in her way, and now it was her Alpha. Her freaking Alpha. She was beautiful, perfect, the whole werewolf-women package, and yet that wasn't enough. She was frustrated, but soon she had detention with everyone else and that was far from fun. She helped them with the reasoning why Jackson was the Kanima, see she could be useful outside of her claws.  
  
They took Erica to Derek, the Kanima's venom running through her faster than they had expected. Derek had to break bones to increase the healing process. Stiles held her in his arms, this was his packtoo and when or if Scott joined it would be complete — he would be completely part of the pack. Her screams rung in their ears. "Stiles. You make a good Batman." Stiles stayed with her while Derek and Scott went to talk. Stiles knew what Scott was going to say. It was obvious, but not permanent. Stiles wanted it, so desperately, to be permanent.  
  
Erica was healing in the makeshift bed Derek had made for her, Scott had left and Stiles texted his father, leaving only the words. "I'm Fine." His dad would take that as sign that he was going to sleep in his car somewhere, or sneak into Scott's house and stay there. The teen was obviously having issues, why else would he have gone to such extremes 'pranking' Jackson, or whatever that event was. He was angry, but he knew his son, he wouldn't get into trouble, and he would turn his phone off. He was just blowing off steam, that's what he did when his mother had died.  
  
"You sure your father isn't going to bring down the cavalry?" Derek asked.  
  
"Did you bring me a phone? I brought my laptop," Stiles said.  
  
Obviously Stiles was avoiding the question, but Derek led Stiles to his room, and he fished into drawers and retrieved a cellphone. It was touch screen, perfect for what Stiles wanted Derek to be able to do, text him and talk to him, whenever he needed him. He plugged the phone in and made quick work of disabling the GPS and outfitting it with the best protective software. Danny had taught him loads and he was rather vigilant when the software tech was protecting his and his father's phone. It was done within a couple of minutes. Stiles quickly programmed his number into Derek's phone, gave himself a special ringtone, and a picture. He also programmed Scott and Erica into his lover's phone.  
  
"Now that I'm finished," Stiles said. He climbed on to Derek's bed, sitting in the middle by the headboard. He took several long breathes, which came out withered. Everything since Derek had become alpha was crushing him — things were only getting worse, and even with Derek's warm arms wrapped around him there was still suffering ahead. Derek followed him, wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding his lover close. Derek knew just how much Stiles had gone through as of late, and he knew that the teen and him were more similar; this was just like his teenage years — dealing with things far greater than one should have to at their age. When he was about Stiles' age his family was caught in the fire Kate had started. The fire he felt responsible for.  
  
Derek's hand rubbed clockwise around the middle of Stiles chest, the heat soothing. Stiles' calmed down once his lover began to coo in his ear, his werewolf's soft, warm breath against his ear. It was then, with Derek's soothing and reassurance that he broke. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, falling ever so gently down the teen's pale cheeks. He leaned into Derek, not having the energy to both cry and keep himself upright. Derek nestled against Stiles, the tears sliding down his chin and becoming a part of the collar of his shirt.  
  
Derek shifted them both so that they were lying down, with his feet he kicked away the covers. They were face to face, Stiles pale face reddened near his eyes because of the crying. His eyes were still layered in a thin coat of tears that shimmered before they collected and became droplets. They slid down his face, one even had the nerve to catch his lip and tumble from its peaks. Stiles looked up to catch Derek's eyes with his own, brown meeting green — the forest itself created between them. There was a smile, a simple smile on Stiles face before he pressed closer to Derek; their lips met softly. The pressure of the kiss, however, came from Stiles, he urged Derek forward, opening his mouth and moaning into his lover, pushing his werewolf to open his own and let forth his tongue. After all that was what Stiles wanted. He began to grind into Derek, he wanted to push his mind out of the picture, even if it was only for the rest of the evening. Between them, maybe for just that one little moment they could forget about the Argents, the Kanima, and maybe Stiles could forget his father's growing disappointment in him.  
  
Stiles let forth another moan, seductively pressing himself into Derek's growing bulge in the front of his jeans. Stiles could feel Derek holding back, and with the softest of voices his lover said, "Please Derek". There was a pause, he attempted to find the words that would explain just how desperate he was for the physical. "Fuck me," Stiles gasped out, just as Derek's tongue found it positively intriguing to taunt the rest of his sanity away. The rest of his words left him, the rest of his will power bent, nearly crumbling, and he couldn't bear it. His body arched into Derek's, the scent of need coming off of him in waves that struck his lover's supernatural nose like a truck. Stiles body was lewd in the way it craved him, the way it arched and caved for his touch. Longing, longing for Derek to be in him.  
  
Derek's hands made their way under Stiles' shirt, it wasn't the one he had give him, he had changed. He frowned, or scowled, whatever it was, it was disappointment. The man's hands had grown more callused than before, but they felt perfect against Stiles' smooth flesh. The warmth spread through him, until Derek lifted his shirt off his lover, the cold air met him, met all of him once Derek doffed his underwear and pants. With ease he removed his own clothes and pressed right close to his lover's body. Derek violently took his lover's mouth, throwing himself into Stiles and prying open the teen's mouth with his tongue.  
  
"I said more," Stiles groaned out demandingly.  
  
Derek response was a growl, one that put just an ounce of fear into his lover that made him jump. His werewolf reeled him back in and ground into him with a delicious amount of force. Their bodies countering each other, before Derek flipped Stiles onto his back and spread his legs. Derek lay on top of Stiles, his groin pressed into his lover's arse, tauntingly. Stiles thrust into his werewolf, wanting what he had asked for, but Derek took his time. He knew Stiles was using him for his particular brand of detachment from the world that Stiles at that moment didn't want to face, and oddly enough they both wanted that moment... This moment was just between them.  
  
"Please," Stiles whimpered out. Derek could see his face, tears still clung to his eyes, but there was constant blush that reddened just under his eyes. He looked pathetic, dependent upon Derek's affection, as if the thought to Stiles of Derek not reciprocating would break him.  
  
Derek with his long arms reached over the bed, and fiddle with something he had stored just under the mattress. Out of the corner of his eyes, Stiles could see a tube of something, but it wasn't long until the teen figured out what the tube was for. With his savage digits, Derek pressed his index finger into Stiles. He was being slow and agonizing, pulling the finger in and out rhythmically, eliciting a drowned out whimper from Stiles that flared Derek's inner wolf. The whimper practically screamed out please more. Another finger slipped in, another moan and whimper. He wanted something more than just a couple of fingers, but Derek was persistent and frustratingly slow. Once he had a third digit into Stiles they twitched in just the right direction to force out screams, not whimpers, nor moans. Screams of pleasure that shook through them both, Stiles head was thrown backward, and Derek growled pleased with himself.  
  
Derek removed his fingers slowly, enjoying the sigh-moan that escaped his lover as he did so. Stiles' mouth opened and words formed in stutters, "P-P-Please M-m...more." His words were followed by a quick, pathetic, sound that was faint, and then a couple laboured breaths. Derek chuckled darkly as he lined himself up and filled the void Stiles had wanted him to. Every inch into his lover was received with an inhale of breath and a moan. Once completely in Derek thrusted in and out as Stiles pawed at the sheets, finally getting a grip on the sheets, and blanching his knuckles as he tightened around the fabric. His body moved with the loose fabric under his body, he moaned out, and Derek swore there were more tears in his eyes. Derek pressed closer to Stiles, practically laying on top of him, bring himself further into his lover. Stills grunted as he took Derek whole, before his lover started up again. Derek leaned in for a kiss, expecting Stiles to make the rest of his way there. Stiles leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck and brought their lips together.  
  
In amongst thrusts, Derek would grunt into Stiles' open mouth, just as Stiles would moan. They breathed into each other, sharing the air between them when their tongues weren't meshed together. Gyrating together, they seemed to find a pace that suited them both. Moans and growls broke from their union and egged each other on. But neither could continue for long, their edge had long been reached and each was straining to keep themselves going. Derek's face transformed, his eyes red, and the power of the waxing moon seemingly giving him more energy and speed, Stiles couldn't hold on any longer. Between them, he came, throwing his head backward and let out moan. Derek grunted, continuing his quickened pace before his lover launched himself at Derek's shoulder and bit down and yet didn't break skin. Stiles' arms tightened around Derek's neck, just before Derek came.  
  
Their mouths came together again, the weight of each other against the other. Derek slid out from within Stiles, who only gave a whimper that drew them into another passionate kiss. The tears welled in the corner of his eyes again, their union only a temporary solution for his problems. Derek rolled them on to their sides, he releases his lover momentarily, pulling a rag from the floor and wiping off the aftermath from the pair of them before bring the cover's up to their shoulders. He pulled himself closer to his crying mate, held his head in his hands and wiped the tears with his thumbs.  
  
"Everything will be alright," Derek whispered into Stiles. His face grew solemn, and he felt lucky Stiles had closed his eyes. He couldn't make that promise, the Argents, the Kanima, and God knows what else, all they had was this fleeting moment, and he wasn't going to be the one to spoil it with his stoic immovable face. Derek pressed his head against Stiles' chest, the human heartbeat — his human's heartbeat telling him a story. He was lulled into sleep, his wolven breathes steady and unyielding. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, not wanting to let him go, not wanting for them to be torn apart. He tucked his head down, resting his cheek against the top of his werewolf's head before he too sunk into sleep.


	11. Yield

The Stilinski house's lower floor was lit by the dim light that hung above the kitchen table. The sheriff sat, a glass full of jack resting next to a bunch of papers. His son's restraining order was amongst them; he had been pouring over every word looking for a loophole or someway to counteract some of the restrictions, but Whittemore was a decent litigator. Stiles' father turn to the case at hand not wanting to continue with what his son had done, he didn't want to anger himself not when people were dying. He had called, Melissa McCall, Stiles wasn't there, he just hoped that his son was okay. His paternal instinct wanted him to call up Ms. Martin to see if maybe Stiles crush had become reality, but he doubt his son would go to her for shelter. He was probably in his jeep, somewhere, maybe outside the school or just around the corner. He knew he had to give his son space, even though he wanted to yell at his only son for stealing a police vehicle and, for lack of a better word, kidnapping the Whittemore kid. Maybe there was something going on, Stiles was odd, but lately he had been acting even more peculiar and more erratic. He hoped Stiles was taking his Adderall.  
  
He opened a file-folder, all of the autopsies of the victims were now in front of him. He didn't fixate on the photographs, but was more concerned with the report. They were similar killings, the same abnormal wound track. He closed the file, letting the dead rest for a little longer before he knew he would have go through them again. He paused. He shuffled through the papers and folders in front of him, extracting the individual files for each of the victims, he glanced at their ages — 24. A connection, perfect. He twisted the wedding band in kept on his finger, thinking, just as dawn broke across the sky. Today was going to be a long day, he knew he would be under severe scrutiny at work because of Stiles' actions, and most indefinitely his own. He had let Stiles off the hook every time his son had been a crime scene as of late. Regardless of Stiles indiscretions, he hoped his son would return home, he didn't like the idea of his son out while a murder was on the prowl. He was glad he had found a connection between the victims, Stiles wasn't 24, he was safe. He wanted to get in his patrol car and search the city for his son, but his son wouldn't take kindly to his father invading his privacy — the privacy to avoid his own father. He remember all the fights he had had with his own father, and how he would spend several nights away from home to blow off steam. Stiles would (if he found him) come home, maybe, barricade himself in his room and only leave for school. He sighed. He went back to his case, trying to drown himself in facts to escape his parental thoughts.  
  
"Stiles, just be safe," he said out loud.

 

* * *

 

  
Around eight-thirty Derek awoke to find Stiles curled into him, his arms up to his chest, and his legs entwined with Derek's own. A smile dare grace the werewolf's face as he saw Stiles'. The hyperactive teen of seventeen reduced to a childish innocence with his breathing soft and somewhat staccato. He was glad he had laundered his sheets the previous night, he couldn't imagine the scent they would had he hadn't. Even now, he could smell their union and it drove his wolven senses against him, wanting to partake again from his lover. As alpha his wolf knew he could have anyone he pleased, whenever, and it wanted Stiles. No, it desired Stiles entirely. Derek was the same, he just couldn't admit just how much he needed Stiles, nor did he realization just how much Stiles needed him. In time maybe they would find out.  
  
Derek took one of his hands and brushed a knuckle under Stiles' eyes. The flesh was still pink and puffy from the night's previous tears. His lover's breath hitched momentarily as they met. He brought his lips to Stiles' forehead, left a delicate kiss there. He would never live it down had Stiles seen it or anyone else from the pack, that single act of kindness. He was kind, but not directly, nor was he sappy. He was Derek Hale after all, the byronic bastard who threatened to kill Lydia and now Jackson, not to mention turned Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. He was firm with his pack, but by no means overly so, or at least he didn't go to the extremes other alphas had gone to. He once believed affection was a weakness, after the death of his sister, that was all he knew. His anchor, his rage — his anger was his fuel to remain human. The power of an alpha was nearly too much for such a limited anchor, he would need another, something more complex and dynamic, but for now, with the full moon so close, he would have to rely on anger.  
  
Stiles stomach growled in his sleep, breaking the silence and Derek's thoughts with it. Now he was thinking what he was going to do for food for the pair of them. With the waxing moon he was going to require more food then normal, his body preparing itself for the strength and output of energy necessary to prevent the shift. He frequently ate alone, bring in food when he was hungry. That was the problem with not having a proper functioning home, but he wasn't going to have a place that could burst into flames with a little accelerant and a spark. This warehouse wasn't homey, but it large and fire would spread slowly, there wasn't any insolation and very little objects that were flammable. He tensed.  
  
"What's wrong sourwolf?" Stiles grumbled out, waking from his sleep, seemingly instinctually.  
  
"Nothing," Derek said deadpanned.  
  
Stiles face grew angry with him, Derek could see it plainly, "Now don't you dare hold out on me," Stiles said. He jabbed a bony finger into Derek's chest. "Or I'll hold out on you." The teen seemed too happy with his threat, so Derek picked him up and pressed him against a nearby wall.  
  
"Is that so?" Derek said between his teeth. Stiles back tensed from the cold of the wall. He shivered before he straightened his neck and posture in Derek's arms. He wrapped his legs around Derek's waist, and drew his face right close to his werewolf's. They're bodies and their loins touching in their nakedness.  
  
"Yes, it is so," Stiles said indignantly, jutting his face forward slightly, so close to Derek's he could feel the man breath. His werewolf growled, before he threw his lips against Stiles' and forcing his way into his lover's mouth. There was something enjoyably arousing in the way Stiles challenged him, and Stiles felt similar delight in the way in which Derek growled at him; a mixture of anger, annoyance, desire, and love, or at least that was what Stiles thought. Stiles took Derek's lower lip into his mouth, not wanting to be a subordinate in the relationship. Another growl was elicited, in a way Derek had agree with him, they were equals in the regards that mattered.  
  
Derek broke their kiss and brought them back to the bed, "I was worried because I don't have any food here, and you're hungry, right?"  
  
"Now that you mention it," Stiles said a touch coyly.  
  
"We could go out," Derek said. "To a diner or something."  
  
"Wouldn't that draw unnecessary attention to us," Stiles said. "Unless you want for us to be public, I'd be fine with that."  
  
Derek blushed momentarily (He thought it to be a lapse in judgement), before his face grew stoic once more. "I was just saying we could go to some restaurant, you make it sound so debauched."  
  
Stiles licked his lips, "Did I?"  
  
Derek looked annoyed, Stiles couldn't play coy with him.  
  
"Fine. We could go to my house, my dad's probably back at work, and it'd be nice to shower," Stiles replied plainly.  
  
"What, you don't like being cover with my scent," Derek said with a frown.  
  
"I'll tell you this once and only once more, again. If necessary you can rub yourself against me after so that all the other wolves know I'm yours, but I'm human, I like to be clean."  
  
Derek seemed satisfied with his answer and took his lover's mouth again. "I expect you to hold up the end of your bargain," he said once he broke from Stiles' mouth.  
  
"We're going to have to get dressed, what would my neighbours think if I came home naked with an old naked man following me in," Stiles said.  
  
Derek only chuckled and stood up, his impressive body standing straight in front of Stiles. The teen gave his lover a once over, before standing up and pushing Derek on the shoulder. "Bastard, clouding my mind with your damn body." His werewolf nearly keeled over laughing, an oddity, he never laughed at Stiles jokes. With a scowl on his face, Stiles picked up his clothes from Derek's floor in a rush, not wanting to give his lover the satisfaction that he had a growing erection.  
  
They took only Stiles' jeep back to his home, his father was indeed gone, and somehow that made Stiles sad. He hadn't planned for his father to be there, but the more he lied to his father the worse he felt about himself, not to mention feel even worse when he couldn't manage the great things the werewolves could. He was just human. Powerless. He walked slowly into his house, guiding Derek behind him, holding his werewolf's hand as he did so. No one would care, he led several people into his home that way. Most of the neighbours and people at school found him eccentric, the odd Stilinski boy, the hyperactive nutjob.  
  
He locked the dorr behind them, hearing the comforting sound of bolt locking into place. When his mother died, when he came home from school, he would return home, the silence overbearing and the lock so comforting when he just wanted to hide away far from others. He shook his head dispelling memories of the past, he should look toward the present with Derek, even if that meant even more problems. Derek was a catalyst, with his werewolf he could, for some odd reason, be purely himself, not worrying about Scott's problems or being a good friend (which wasn't really reciprocated). He didn't have to regret. He could just live in the now, be with Derek in that moment, and enjoy their similarities. Enjoy the way he spoke to him while they were alone. Enjoy the way Derek touched him without forcing his face into a steering wheel.  
  
"Do you want to cook?" Stiles asked Derek.  
  
"I thought that was a given," was Derek's simple reply. Feeling scorned, Stiles sulked toward the kitchen table and took a seat.  
  
"Don't sulk, that's my job. I'm just saying that I'd like to cook for you."  
  
"Nice save," Stiles said lifting his head.  
  
Derek went to work. At an alarming pace he moved between the fridge and the oven, preparing things with professional ease. He had something in the oven that smelled delicious and without even asking washed what he had used and put it back it their rightful places, all within less then thirty minutes.  
  
"What are you, sonic the hedgehog," Stiles said. "You're nearly breaking the sound barrier."  
  
"Your the one who said you like to be clean, and if you're to hold up your end of the deal, I'll have to be right next to you, and we're both hungry so we should at least eat first," Derek said, his cocky grin-smirk on his stubbled face. Stiles nearly choked on his own spit, just as the timer on the stove rung.  
  
Derek with oven-mitts on, removed what he made. A quiche was presented in front of him on a trivet and two dishes soon followed. Without speaking his werewolf plunged a knife into the dish and scooped generous amounts into each bowl before adding a fork to each dish.  
  
"I could've..." Stiles muttered out.  
  
"I know Stiles, shut up."  
  
Stiles didn't need to ask twice, his stomach rumbled and his body craved food, so he was more than happy to sink his fork into the quiche he had been served and plunge the loaded fork in his mouth. It was no surprise to the teen that Derek was an excellent chief. Stiles flashed his eyes toward Derek's, his werewolf met his gaze and grin-smirked. Stiles helped himself to another spoonful, before calling it quits. Derek, however, had thirds and was enjoying watching Stiles stare at him. It seemed as those his lover was fascinated by the way he ate, but he presumed that Stiles was just observing him. When he had finished eating, however, Stiles' eyes averted to his empty bowl in front of him.  
  
"What?" Derek asked.  
  
"It's simple really, sourwolf," Stiles breathes out. "I love you."  
  
Taken aback by Stiles statement that was given outside of the thralls or afterglow of their unions. He quickly stood from his chair, the sound of the chair skidding meeting Stiles' ears before he noticed Derek approaching. He was quick, and pulled Stiles into his arms, cradling him there. Derek brought his lover's face to his own, and without speaking pressed hard into Stiles' lips. Growling lowly, rumbling from his core, as Derek carried Stiles upstairs to his bathroom.  
  
Once there, Stiles began to squirm wanting to be let down, but Derek held firm. His werewolf lowered themselves to turn on the taps and let the water reach the perfect temperature, before letting Stiles escape. The teen stood awkwardly back, unaware of how to progress even if they had been in the same situation before. He sucked in his lower lip, biting into it nervously before Derek came to him. His hands gently helped Stiles out of his clothes. It surprised Stiles to find that Derek was a compassionate lover, gentle when necessarily and brutal at the right moments. That's what he needed at that moment, someone he didn't need to always fight against, they were equals and when they fought there would be fireworks exploding from their collision, but when he needed comfort, there was Derek. An argument between them would match Derek's dry boldness against Stiles rapier wit, and the victor would be the one that out played the other. Regardless of appearance Derek was fairly intelligent, enough to spar with Stiles without hesitation.  
  
Derek slid his own clothes from his body, spending him removing his shirt by unbuttoning each button of his v-neck and pull it off slowly, revealing his body at his own pace. He pressed a hand against Stiles back, the warmth more welcome then Derek would ever know. Stiles was glad he had a nice shower, one large rain shower head that was above the pair of them, and one nice strong one as the primary. Under the warm water everything seemed to melt away. Derek could hear Stiles heartbeat calm and during that moment Stiles wanted to able to hear Derek's heart so that neither of them could lie and get away with it.  
  
Stiles turned around and faced Derek, there eyes met before Stiles attempted to drop down to his knees, however, his wolf quickly grabbed him and held him up. "You don't need to do that."  
  
Stiles blinked, confused, "...But I want to."  
  
Derek threw himself into a hug with Stiles, pressing him close, before Stiles manoeuvred Derek against a wall and took his mouth with his own. His werewolf smiled into his kiss and probed Stiles' mouth with his tongue before breaking them apart to breath.  
  
Stiles again tried to drop to his knees, Derek let him. With his lover's manhood near his mouth, it truly seemed impressive as it stood proudly in front of him. He took his werewolf's manhood into his mouth, before applying suction and using his tongue to tease Derek most lecherously. His werewolf grunted and growled low in his chest before attempting to peal Stiles from him to prevent an all too quick conclusion. He picked Stiles up from his knees, they were practically eye to eye. The teen took the initiative and pressed his lips against Derek's, he let his own tongue enter his werewolf's mouth. Derek gave Stiles leeway, finding his own taste in his mouth peculiarly enthralling, however, within a few moments he forced his own tongue into the mélange.  
  
Stiles soon wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, his own erection bobbing against Derek's as they grew closer. Derek hoisted Stiles' legs up, before the teen wrapped them around his werewolf's waist. With one firm arm holding Stiles up, he used his other to guide himself into Stiles, who unlike their first time, was more used to his presence. A whimper torn through Stiles as Derek pressed further into him, his desires wanting more, but his body not quite yet able to accept the rest of him. Within in moments Derek continued his push, eliciting soft murmurs from Stiles as he did so.  
  
Fully within his lover, Derek began push himself in and out of Stiles, bringing forth moans that echoed throughout the small room, forcing a blush to appear on his face. He couldn't even imagine his father's reaction had he caught them, but luckily his father was at work.  
  
"Faster," Stiles moaned out. Derek obliged, quickening his face. The pleasure derived from his lover's action was nearly too much for Stiles, he was still new to having a lover. He squirmed in Derek's grasp, nearly unable to hold on. Moans poured from his mouth in gasps.  
  
At each trust Derek would grunt and the closer he came the more those grunts became growls. His eyes flashed red, his heartbeat increasing. His wolf wanted Stiles, so Derek took hold of his lover's head and brought it closer to his own. He seized Stiles mouth with his own; they both were focused on other tasks, Derek on his motions and Stiles on moaning, so there kiss was sloppy and desperate. Stiles torn away from the kiss, and brought his mouth to Derek's shoulder, biting down hard against Derek's rigid flesh. The surge of power and desire met him and he came from the excessive pleasure. Derek's pace quickened, all his effort going into his actions before he withdrew himself and lifted Stiles body to grind into his own. With a growl that furthered Stiles blush on his face, he came between them.  
  
Both of them breathed heavily into the other, it was Derek, that helped Stiles climb off of him before his werewolf picked up the soap and helped clean the both of them. He was particularly rough when it came to Stiles' rear that he had just recently brutalized. Stiles jumped, he was slightly sore now. Stiles threw his first into Derek's chest angrily in protest. His werewolf chuckled as a response, as he moved his hand back to Stiles ass. He squeezes rump, which elicited protest from Stiles who slapped Derek's arm and exclaimed.  
  
"Oi! You know perfectly well that I'm sore," Stiles said. He was angry at his lover and he wasn't going to let Derek torture him with his own body, or at least not when he didn't want it. Derek frowned and brought his hands back to Stiles arse. His lover gave him a look, but Derek continued.  
  
"I promise I'll play nice," Derek said with his signature smirk-grin on his devilishly handsome face.  
  
"How could I refuse that face," Stiles said.  
  
Derek was gentle as he soaped Stiles completely, before Stiles stole the soap from out Derek's hands. His werewolf had amazing speed, but Stiles was agile. With the soap in hand he covered and traced Derek's body before dragging the bar of soap against his werewolf's jawline before Derek growled and bite into the air in front of him.  
  
They let the water rinse away the soap, Derek ran shampoo and conditioner through their hair, although Stiles barely had any in comparison. Soon, when all the soap was gone, they both left the shower. Derek grabbed to towels and handed one to Stiles. Once dry, they wrapped their towels around their waists and went into Stiles' room.  
  
"Let me replace those bandages on your shoulder," Derek said.  
  
"You can smell that I've replaced them since you patched me up," Stiles said.  
  
Derek unravelled the bandages from Stiles' shoulder. His bite mark had healed nicely, he was still glad that he hadn't bitten Stiles deeply. The pale flesh still held the image of his wolven teeth, and some of his flesh was still pink and healing. Part of him was horrified that he had injured Stiles, the other part of him, his wolf maybe, was admiring his claiming of his lover. "I should at least put a bandage, I'll need one and some rubbing alcohol."  
  
Stiles jumped up, went into the cabinet under the sink and withdrew a massive first-aid kit. It reminded Derek of one his mother had, it was roughly the size of a small tackle-box.  
  
"Ready for war?" Derek asked.  
  
"I've always been clumsy, dad made sure I was prepared," Stiles said.  
  
Derek nodded. He dabbed a cotton swob into alcohol and rubbed it across Stiles' wound with a little force. The teen winced as the alcohol stung at the open bits of his wound. Derek gave the remaining alcohol time to dry before putting a large bandaid over the wound, Stiles didn't need the full bandaging.  
  
"I'm sorry," Derek said.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For that."  
  
"I thought we went over this," Stiles said, a frown growing on his face.  
  
"I know, but—" Derek said somewhat meekly, splitting momentarily from his stoic bravado to show a softer core that Stiles suspected.  
  
"No buts, I told you no harm no fowl, and it was fun... In retrospect," Stiles replied. Stiles went to his dresser and pulled out the clothes Derek had given him. They had been laundered, that Derek could tell from where he sat on Stiles' bed. The teen tossed them at Derek before he went through and picked out his own clothes. He looked back at Derek, who had another scowl-frown on his face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I thought you'd keep my clothes," Derek said, clearly disappointed.  
  
"Notice that I didn't give you back your sweater." Stiles pulled Derek's black zip-up sweater from his drawers and pulled it over his head. He took a moment to inhale his werewolf's scent, before sauntering over to Derek who's face was stoic, or at least all but his eyes were stoic. His eyes beamed at him, with those green eyes alight Stiles could barely breath.  
  
"Before I let you complete my end of the bargain," Stiles said. "I want something from you."  
  
"What would that be?" Derek asked.  
  
"Could you transform your face for me?" Stiles said fearlessly.  
  
Derek gave Stiles a skeptical look, before pushing Stiles down so that he could straddle his lover's waist. "Curious to see the monster you've been dating?" Derek asked, there was an odd melancholy in his voice.  
  
"No," Stiles said firmly. "I'm just naturely curious. I've seen Scott and a couple others, but I want to see your up close."  
  
"If I lose control it could be dangerous," Derek said warningly trying to stop Stiles.  
  
"I'm sure you'll manage, and besides, you owe me," Stiles said, patting his shoulder. A desperate play even for him, but Derek allowed it mournfully.  
  
He looked down into Stiles' brown eyes, his forest greens turning red as the teen watched. Derek let his face morph, the ears turn wolven, his nose, the hair, and finally the teeth. He let out a roar that seemed indignant, sad, and interested all at the same time. Stiles snorted and brought his hands against Derek's face. He brought his hand across Derek's ears, then his nose, and lastly, dusted over the points of his werewolf's teeth. "I wouldn't like to be on the violent receiving end of those," Stiles admitted out loud. Derek's face slowly went back to normal, the muscles and tendons returning to their original shape. "But I'm not afraid of you," Stiles said. Derek could hear a partial lie. Stiles nodded in defeat, as if he knew. "Fine, I'm a little afraid, but I have faith in you." He lifted his head to meet Derek's mouth, and wrapped his arms around his werewolf's neck. "I believe you want to hug me to death." Derek shifted himself and Stiles so that they were under the covers, his werewolf's warmth accumulating quickly. Derek brought himself closer to Stiles, hugged him close.  
  
"Everyone should know you're mine," Derek said.  
  
"If anyone has any doubts I'll tell them myself," Stiles retorted bluntly. "That does for them as well," Stiles practically snarled out. Derek's ears seemed to perk up, enjoying his lover's possessiveness that matched his own.  
  
The warmth, Derek's affectionate nips, kisses, and hugs brought him closer to sleep and he fell asleep, but just before sinking into unconsciousness, he thought, this is going to be a long, lazy weekend.


	12. Dream

Stiles' eyes flickered open. The forest floor was before him, the wind was howling through the wind. If he had longer hair, the gust would have sent it flying, but instead he felt the breeze rush across his hair. His vision was blurred, he blinked it away, only realizing after that he was crying. He was on his knees, his forehead resting on the leaf-matted forest floor. He pulled himself up, looking down at his hands as he stood. He straightened his back, cracking a few bones as he did so. A sharp pain presented itself, he touched his face, just below the temple. He felt the familiar outlines of a wound, he was used to it, that feeling. He brushed the pad of a finger across the gash before bringing it to his face. Blood. Blood was on his finger. His eyes caught something swinging in front of him, something he hadn't noticed because of his concern about himself. His eyes focused. Half of Derek swung in front of him, Gerard's sword plunged into his chest. His eyes were shut. He's sleeping, Stiles thought. He's sleeping. God please. No. No. God! No! Derek's face calm, all the weight of his suffer disposed off, or lifted off of him by angels. Momentarily he was brought back to the last time he had seen his mother. She had kissed him on his forehead, telling him to give mum a kiss and hug before leaving. She never asked. The next day, his dad had told him that she had died and when he had seen her, her face was calm, and she wasn't suffering anymore.  
  
He brought his hand to Derek's lips, brushing his thumb across them. They were no longer warm — he was no longer warm. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over quickly, his breathing laboured before he let out a yell that died in the forest and by the wind that roared back.  
  
He averted his eyes to the ground, wrapping a hand around the hilt of the blade. He, with strength no one thought he had, tore the blade from his lover's chest. He didn't let it drop, he brought it up and with one long slash, cut the rope that held Derek.  
  
The half of his werewolf's body fell. Stiles let the blade fall to the ground, before his knees collapsed. He pulled Derek's shirt to pull what remained of his body closer to him before breaking down into uncontrollable sobbing. Bring his fist to Derek's chest over and over, screaming, Don't leave me!  
  
...  
  
Stiles sharply inhaled. His eyes quickly opened. He was back in his room. His safe room. Derek, who had remained next to him (Although sitting up) had a look of concern on his face when he noticed Stiles distressed look and his elevated heartbeat. Stiles' hands sprung from the covers and wrapped around Derek's neck, pulling himself up into a kiss. He began to cry, which caught Derek off guard. He just wrapped his own hands around Stiles.  
  
"What's wrong," Derek whispered into Stiles ear, his voice soft, deep, and just what his lover needed.  
  
"Bad dream," Stiles said.  
  
"Want to talk about it?"  
  
"In a moment," Stiles said. "But for now, just hold me." Derek complied.  
  
Minutes passed before Stiles explain in full what he dreamed. Derek only hugged him closer, before managing to move them so that they were lying down.  
  
"I promise I'll never leave you," Derek said.  
  
"Promise?" Stiles said, still reeling from the nightmare he had just experienced.  
  
"I promise," Derek said, feeling the full weight of Stiles affection for him. His mind froze momentarily drawing parallels between himself and Kate Argent. He had never been so devoted to that bitch, but he still felt that Stiles would divulge his secrets had he asked, and he couldn't bear the thought of being like her. He breathed, he had to be there for Stiles. He had to be more then just a quick fling.  
  
Stiles curled up close to Derek, before drifting to sleep, not afraid that his eyes would meet that horrible scene, but instead dreaming of Derek.  
  
"What time is it?" Stiles asked, waking up again and was unable to see his clock.  
  
"Two, you've slept for quite a while."  
  
"You shouldn't have let me sleep this long, we've got so much todo. We've got to find a way to stop Jackson, we can't have more people getting killed."  
  
"I'm sure you've got Scott and Allison concocting a plan for you," Derek said.  
  
"And you trust that plan to work? Are you out of your mind? Or have I just dazed you with body?"  
  
Derek growled. "They can wait. I've got you to myself today."  
  
"And how to you prepose to keep me here?" Stiles asked, his eyes given away his intentions.  
  
Derek shifted, encaging Stiles with his arms and held firm, wrapping his legs around Stiles'. "I have my ways," his werewolf said before bring his lips to Stiles'. He planted a kiss on Stiles' own, pressing hard against them before he broke apart. "Your mine. You don't have a choice."  
  
Stiles pressed into Derek, overwhelming his werewolf for a moment by bring himself closer and arching his back, pressing his entire body as close as Derek's as possible. "Well that's good," Stiles said. "Because your mine." Stiles gave his best growl under his breath, mocking Derek's own supernatural one. Derek chuckled in response before resting his forehead against Stiles'.  
  
"Fine," Stiles said. "Today, I'm all yours." Derek smiled before he leaned into a kiss, but in the back of his mind he thought of how much pressure they were all under, to deal with Kanima, and how dangerous it was to have all this attention draw to Beacon Hills with Gerard and these murders.

 

* * *

 

  
The school halls were empty, all besides the afternoon light that gave it a sort of supernatural suspension. Aidan was by his desk, a cheap typical brown desk that lacked any craftsmanship. It was on the opposite side of the classroom then the door to the right and was fairly wide and long. A bookcase and a cabinet that were equally as cheap stood behind the desk. It had taken Aidan all morning to dust them, but he was thankful that they were filled with extra copies of the required texts in the cabinet and that the bookshelf was filled with reference texts. His desk had been personalized. A modern stretch lamp stood to one side, while on the opposite side a stack of books. In the middle, near the front, was a medium sized glass hourglass. The sand was nearly in the base.  
  
"I don't know what game your playing at Aidan," Gerard said coming into the room. "But get in my way and I'll kill you. Werewolf or not!"  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Argent, but I'm unaware of what you mean," Aidan said, shifting the hour glass over once it had finished. "I'm Aidan Knight, a well recognized and documented English teacher with connections to the Trustee of district. I'm sorry that by going over your head, I've offended you in some way."  
  
A knock rung against the door and Ms. Morrell was by the door. "Sorry, did I interrupt?"  
  
"Not at all Ms. Morrell, I was just welcoming Mr. Knight to Beacon Hills," Gerard said as he left the room.  
  
"A couple of days in Beacon Hills and you've already got Gerard on edge," Morrell said.  
  
"Wouldn't you be?"  
  
"No, but he doesn't know you as I do."  
  
"I'm not that innocent," Aidan said. "The same could be said about you." His eyes shot to the guidance councillor.  
  
"You've felt it then?"  
  
"Hasn't everyone?"

 

* * *

 

  
After finishing off the quiche for lunch Derek and Stiles returned to his bed. Derek warm arms were around Stiles, who was nearly falling back to sleep. It would appear that Stiles had been emotionally taxes for far too long without having any down. His phone buzzed, he had received a text. Stiles quickly reached for it, not being hindered by Derek.  
  
"Hey! What do you know," Stiles said facing into Derek. "You were right. They've actually managed to find something out."  
  
"What's that?" Derek asked, nipping at Stiles' throat. Stiles reciprocated by becoming flustered and blushing.  
  
He softly giggled before speaking. "It appears that Allison was invited to a rave, and everyone is going to be there. Scott's planning on following Jackson to see if he buys a ticket. Although now that I say it out loud it just sounds like Scott wants to go to the rave because Matt asked Allison if she'd like to go with him." Derek chuckled. "Don't laugh. Scott must think I'm stupid to think I'd believe that he's gonna try to get rave tickets just to follow Jackson." Stiles sighed. "Speaking of friends, or in this case, pack. Doesn't your pack need your attention, with the full moon so close?"  
  
"They're fine, if they needed anything they'd come here, and more importantly, I thought I said you were all mine today. No shop talk," Derek said, growling and taking Stiles mouth.  
  
"I did say that," Stiles said, letting his hands wonder across Derek's chest before slipping his hands under his werewolf's shirt before removing it. "But I'm always yours," Stiles added before bring his mouth to Derek's.  
  



	13. Raving (Lunatics)

Derek had stayed with Stiles in his room till his dad had returned home early at four. The werewolf had to leave in a hurry, scrolling a note quickly on a piece of paper on Stiles' desk before tucking the paper in his lover's clenching hands. He left via the window, being careful enough to close it as he left. He longed for the day that he could use the front door, although, he doubted that the Sheriff would let them spend the night together. Part of him felt disgusted with himself for being like that manipulative bitch that had taken him for all he was, and took his family as collateral. The fire flashed into his mind, the smell of the cinders and the burnt flesh still caught in his memory. He went home.  
  
Stiles spent the next two evening trying to find the courage to talk with his dad about Derek and him, but the time wasn't right. He was dealing with a slew of murders, he didn't need his son ruining more things for him. You know if the restraining order wasn't enough, how about him telling his dad he was gay. His dad wasn't homophobic, he knew that, but when it comes to family values and morals seem to slip into the background and the raw emotions and opinions are brought to the foreground.  
  
They met at his dad's office for dinner, he hadn't gotten exactly what his father had asked for. Veggie burger, celery sticks, and everything his father would hate, but Stiles knew the fragility of life. He knew it first hand. It should come to no surprise that he knew the importance of eating healthy — to make the body able to last longer. His father needed to reduce his blood pressure and cholesterol levels. They were human, they were fragile. Balance eating, balance living, and maybe Stiles could keep his father alive for another 100 years.  
  
They discussed the murder board, drew conclusions and made connections. They were a good team, his father and him. They seemingly could understand each other; Stiles' erratic and eccentric, and his father's logic and hand's dirty mentality. His mother always was the catalyst to their balance, she would be the middle ground. It was hard to find that middle ground without her.

 

* * *

 

  
Inside the vet. office Derek and Scott spoke with Dr. Deaton, leaving Isaac outside until they were ready for him. The vet. was seemingly ahead of them, he asked what they would do if they had captured Jackson, and eventually they concluded that they weren't going to kill him, but they needed to contain him. They invited Isaac in, and went into the back room. Dr. Deaton pulled out the box that Adrian had given him. The jars had symbols on their tops and contained many different things within their centres, and with mountain ash ashes he encircled a pendant of Cernunnos. What effects the master, effects the puppet.

 

* * *

  
  
Another day passed, school was ordinary, but the plan that Scott and Alison (and Stiles' perfecting touches) had put together seems like it would work. They would lure Jackson and find a way to stop him, which, according to Scott, didn't kill the monster, but change him back to a human or a werewolf. Isaac had roughly got Scott and Stiles tickets and the plan was going to be set in motion, but first they need to find a way to separate master from puppet, or just to figure out how to contain Jackson.  
  
Scott brought Stiles to Dr. Deaton. His knowledge of the supernatural made Stiles incredibly jealous, and he wished he could learn from him, but from the vibe he was getting, the only reason the vet was helping them at all was because of Scott, or at least that's what he assumed. He had to become the spark for the mountain ash, and just like Santa, he would have to believe to get anything out of it. He stated his disbelief, but after he realized just how little he knew about the world around him. If werewolves existed, then why couldn't he be the conduit for the mountain ash? Anything was possible.  
  
Empowered by the potential, Stiles got into his jeep. Leaving Scott at the veterinarian, he drove toward the Argent home. He was going to go head on against one of the enemies. He pulled on Derek's pullover, he had left it in his car. He inhaled Derek's scent, bring reason to his courage. When he parked on the opposite side of the street from the Argent house, he lost some of his nerve. He parked the car and took out his keys, but within a second had them back in the ignition, but when it came to turning the key and reignited the engine, he couldn't. He paused for a moment, withdrawing the keys and slipping them into his pocket. He got out of his jeep, walked toward the front door just as a car pulled into the driveway. The lights reflecting off the glass of the door and signalled Stiles, if his ears hadn't heard the car pulling into the driveway. He turned around, a black SUV stared him down. He stood his ground and watched as Chris Argents stepped out of the vehicle.  
  
"What do you want, Stiles," Chris said exasperated by the sheer presence of the teen.  
  
"I want you to stop your vindictive vendetta against the werewolves. Hasn't your sister caused enough grief — enough blood shed?"  
  
"We hunt those who hunt us," Chris Argent said, repeating the code.  
  
"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent. I heard you say it, but that's all it is, talk!"  
  
"I told you once that my best friend at one point turned and tried to attack me, Scott did the same thing, if I remember correctly," Chris said, not letting Stiles' elevated toned change his own. He was irritated, but Stiles was human, like him.  
  
"We're not alike," Stiles answered. "I suppose in the beginning there was a purpose. When people were being killed, but at what point did saving the innocent turn into genocide. A life is a life. Your sister didn't see it that way. She didn't see a life where there was one. She decided that they were beasts and that beasts do not have a right to live. You preach this code, you say that you don't harm the young, but what about the young that were harmed? And when they grow up do they become targets? Your code is misguided — bred out of the myopia of fear and panic!"  
  
"You don't know all the facts, you're just a child caught up in a conflict you can't handle."  
  
"Screw the facts!" Stiles exclaimed. "What I know is that what the pack does is out of fear. You corner them and they retaliate. Derek is some crazed alpha like Peter. You just look at him and see the beast from your families history. You look at him, his red eyes and you fear. We humans have committed atrocities in the name of fear... In the name of our own protection. I can handle this conflict because I know my own morality. Derek is not some monster. He's kind, and even behind that scowl and stoic exterior, he cares. You hunt innocents because you see monsters. Sure on the full moon they're a little sadistic, but they can control it, if they're given time. Derek grew up as a werewolf, and even though his pack is new, I feel that they will learn how to control it soon. Derek can keep them in check, but what's the point in talking. You're just going to call me a child, grab your crossbow and kill these 'beasts' because your family has perfected the way to kill off people that have such a burden. If you left them only things could be better. There could be harmonious living like back before the fire. None of them went out and killed people. The Hales had contained their inner savage. I wish you people could do the same."  
  
"Us savages!" Chris said, laughing afterward. "You've been favouring your other arm, what did something happen to your shoulder." Chris Argent, pulled Stiles closes, and with one hand keep Stiles in place (why he squirmed) and the other bunching Stiles shirt and sweater in his palm and pulling back to expose the bandage on his shoulder. "You might not have turned, but he took a chunk out of you. Who was it, Scott? Derek? One of his pack? They're dangerous. Humans may indoctrinate, but at least we don't create other beasts by a simple bite. This bite... They call it a gift, but look at them during the full moon, even your precious Scott and Derek are animals. They may not shift, but they're still animals caged and raging."  
  
Stiles nearly in tears pull back and left, ran to his jeep without letting Chris get another word. He was done, he had said what he had wanted to say. Once he was in his car, he glanced back to see Argent just standing there silent, seemingly frozen. He put his key into the ignition and started his engine. He glanced at the clock, and started to drive, he had to get ready for the rave.

 

* * *

 

  
Stiles was leaving home, he had been home for an hour or so feeding himself and preparing for his task. He had to go pick Scott up from the vet's clinic. He passed his father, before turning around, something was off. He glanced up and down his father.  
  
"Where is your gun?" Stiles asked.  
  
"I left it at the station along with my badge," the sheriff said, feeling a mix of emotions. He was about to turn to go inside.  
  
"Dad!" Stiles cried out.  
  
"Don't worry about it," his father replied.  
  
"Dad!"  
  
Stiles' father sighed. "It was decided that the son of the police chief, stealing police property and having a retraining order filed against him by one of the town's most respect attorneys didn't reflect well on the county."  
  
"They fired you..." Stiles said, his heart breaking. He had caused his father to lose a job he had loved, a job that had helped him get over... Stiles stopped his thoughts.  
  
"Naw... It's just a leave of absence. It's temporary."  
  
"Did they say it was temporary."  
  
"Actually no. You know, it's fine. Don't worry about. Hey' we're going to be dine."  
  
"Dad!" Stiles exclaimed. He was on the verge of tears, he had caused this... He knew he had fucked up. "I don't get it, why aren't you angry at me?"  
  
"I don't know," Stilinski admitted. "Maybe I don't want to feel any worse then I already do by having to yell at my son."  
  
His father left, going into his home and settling down at the kitchen table with the bottle of jack, and what remained of a surprisingly delicious quiche his son had packed away into the fridge. He just picked it up from some delivery place, his dad thought as he heard the engine of Stiles' jeep roar to life. He doubted his son would be home that night.  
  
Stiles picked Scott up from the clinic, Deaton had given them a bag of mountain ash ashes nearly as heavy as Stiles' himself. They drove to the rave, Stiles said nothing.  
  
They arrived, Scott asked if Stiles was alright, but the human teen simply brushed his best friend off. If Scott truly wanted to spend time he would have stopped Stiles and had a conversation, but being busy and concerned about his girlfriend, he left. Stiles sighed and began his work with the ashes. He opened the bag and started drawing a circle around the building. When he was nearly finished he came down to a last handful, enough to fill his hand. He didn't have enough to complete the circle. He ground his teeth together frustrated, could he do nothing right. He called Scott, leaving a message, calling him a wolfass, but that wouldn't do anything in the moment. He remembered that Deaton had told him to be the spark and to imagine it working... He searched himself, finding the belief he could conjure from the knowledge of the existence of werewolves. If this magic damn faerie dust was going to work, he had to believe in it. He began to picture it, a complete circle. He walked toward the start of the line he had put down, having put the rest of the ash into his hands, and let the ashes fall. He strode toward the start, feeling the grains slip through his fingers. When he made it, he opened his eyes. Glanced down at the completed circle and by some miracle he had managed it. He glanced at his hands, they were black from the ash and he bunched them together and wanted to cheer.  
  
He wipes his hands on his jeans, just as his phone signals that he's received a text. Erica told him that they had Jackson. He crossed his own line, making sure not to disturb the ashes. He met up with Erica on the side of the building, in one of the many securable areas they had scouted before they had arrived this evening. They had Jackson in a chair, he was knocked out because of the ketamine, and yet when Isaac approaches, claws bared, Jackson nearly snaps the werewolf's wrist.  
  
"No body does anything like that again!" Stiles said, surprisingly commandingly, even Erica turned toward Stiles. For a moment both Erica and Isaac questioned if being involved with Derek automatically gave Stiles authority over them. "Okay!"  
  
By the end, Jackson had spoke unconsciously with Stiles, the master had used Jackson literally as a puppet, but their conversation was short lived particularly when Jackson's body begins to shift into that of the kanima. They ran out as fast as they could. Stiles jumped over the ashes, looks back toward Erica and Isaac. They couldn't cross it.  
  
Stiles nearly choked on his own hubris. He was ecstatic, he had actually managed to do something useful. Derek arrived, his shirt has two holes and burns around the edges. Stiles glances at the marks and he reacts in a typical Stiles-like reaction.  
  
"Oh my god! It's working! Ah this is... Yes! I did something," he said looking to Derek for confirmation, but Derek's ear's pick up, nothing more.  
  
"Scott," Derek mutters out.  
  
"What," Stiles replies, disappointed Derek didn't compliment his work.  
  
"Break it!" Derek commands.  
  
"What, no way," Stiles said, wanting to say but I actually got it to work.  
  
"Scott's dying!"  
  
"Okay. What. how do you know that?"  
  
"Oh my god, Stiles, I just know. Break it!" Derek said hurried.

  
  
Stiles broke his hard work, brushing away some of the ash, making the complete circle broken. The magic faded, both Erica and Isaac could feel it. They wanted to follow Derek, but he was too quick.  
  
Stiles frowned, averting his eyes to the ground. He had been useful? He had helped them, right? He didn't know what to do, he could follow Derek and by some miracle find them, or he could hop into his car and drive toward Scott's house and then double back to Derek's, luring any hunters away from whatever was going on. He got into his jeep, feeling more useless then ever. He threw his fists against the wheel, the horn honking and terrifying a couple of people that had left the rave.  
  
"Oh my God!" He shouted.

 

* * *

  
  
Stiles had made it to Scott's when his phone. A message from Scott popped up on screen, he pulled over momentarily. It had been a perfect moment anyway, if he was being tailed then they would try to stop before he noticed. The text ready, "Come to vet. - Derek." Great, now I'm worried, Stiles thought was he pulled away from the curb and sped toward the clinic.

 

* * *

  
  
Deaton had patched Scott up, the younger werewolf was laid out and unconscious. Derek sat in a chair in the corner of the room, looking grim. He had bitten the Argent women to protect Scott, he knew their code. He was screwed, whatever chance at a peaceful life like when he was growing up, as out the window. Maybe it was time to move to a new town, but Stiles. His heart swelled, no he couldn't leave Stiles. He'd have to find a way to stay.  
  
"Thank you," Derek said to the Vet.  
  
The vet went into his office in the back room near the door. He looked worn out, but still able to function without hesitation.  
  
"I can't decide," Ms. Morrell said. "If I admire your sentimentality or despise it."  
  
"If I want your opinion, I'll make an appointment with the guidance office," Deaton replied.  
  
"From the state of things, I think you could use a little guidance. Are you really going to leave all this up to a couple of kids."  
  
"They are more capable then you think."  
  
She contemplated his answer before speaking. "Are you going to tell them what is coming?"  
  
"They've had enough to worry about."  
  
"But will you let them go in blind," Aidan said, appearing from out the shadows of the backdoor.  
  
"Honestly, you both are extremely intruding," The vet said.  
  
"I don't mean to be," Aidan said as if off hand.  
  
"Well I believe I've overstayed my welcome. Anytime any of you wish for some guidance, make an appointment."  
  
"I best be off as well," Aidan said leaving with Morrell.  
  
Dr. Deaton went back to Derek and Scott; he checked the younger werewolf's temperature and glanced toward Beacon Hill's alpha, the one he had promised a dear friend to protect. "He'll be fine. Besides I believe you'll be leaving soon."  
  
Stiles wondered into the operating room, the silver metal slab occupied by Scott, who was still unconscious. He hung on the frame of the door, not wanting to go back into this room again.  
  
"You're not going to ask me to cut off your arm again," Stiles said, looking around the room nervously.  
  
"No, but if you don't get in here you may lose an arm," Derek said.  
  
Stiles came into the room and slowly approached Derek. He watched the vet as he moved before attempting to sit on Derek's lap, but his werewolf stood up preventing him. "You're right, I will be leaving." He grabbed hold of Stiles wrist, "Coming, Stiles?"  
  
"Always a pleasure, Stiles. Derek I think it would be best if Stiles remains in your company, with Scott unconscious and all, not to mention that his father is weaponless," Deaton said. He checked Scott again, his wounds were healing, but not enough to bring him back to consciousness.  
  
"I'll do that," Stiles said, prancing out of the door, Derek still holding on to his wrists.  
  
As they left Derek spoke, "You need to be careful. If the hunters found out, or if... It just wouldn't be good. They'd try to use you against me. They'd. I don't want to think about."  
  
"My jeep or your car, or maybe we should drive separately," Stiles said, ignoring what Derek had said.  
  
"Stiles, it's dangerous."  
  
"What is with people thinking that I'm so fragile. I might be human, I might be useless, but I'm not weak. I don't need you to tell me it's dangerous. I know that, but I need to try to save my friends. Do you understand that? So my car or yours?"  
  
"Yours, the hunters might be on patrol and they'll notice my car, it'll be safe here," Derek said.  
  
They both got into Stiles' jeep. "Let's go, you need to get home before your dad sends out the cavalry," Derek said.  
  
"I'm not going home," Stiles said.  
  
"Is everything alright?"  
  
"It can wait Derek till we're at your... What do I call it, headquarters... Den... Yes, den is more appropriate."  
  
"Stiles."  
  
"No Derek, please. It can wait. I just can wait."

 

* * *

 

  
  
It didn't take long for them to arrive at Derek's warehouse. They left Stiles car secured and walked together toward the back entrance. When they reached Derek's room, they could see the lights were on and the rest of his pack were waiting for him.  
  
"How's Scott," Isaac asked.  
  
"Recuperating," Stiles said walking in front of Derek and coming to the room before him. He glanced at Erica, she had her hands in Boyd's. He look at Derek, however, his concern written on his face.  
  
"I'm fine," Derek said. "Now Erica, Boyd, I'm sure you've got places to be, and Isaac go rest. It's been a long day." The alpha was in his voice, Stiles could hear it rumble in his chest. "Be careful for hunters. The argents are out in force."  
  
The pack dispersed, leaving Stiles and Derek in his room. His werewolf slid the dresser back into position and then turned toward Stiles who had sat down on the edge of Derek's bed. His face was stricken, the weight of the events of the day still heavy against his shoulders and mind, along with the added worry of what had happened with Derek and Boyd, probably relating to the burn holes that Derek did so very well to hide. He looked up into Derek's eyes and held his presence there. He opened his mouth, nothing came. No words, no sounds, not even the sound of his own breathing. He closed it. A moment passed in silence, before he attempted it again. "I don't want to be that lover that always is in tears."  
  
"You're not, Stiles. When bad things happen that effect us, some of us cry, some of us want to cry, but just have forgotten how." He sat down next to Stiles, wrapping his hand around him.  
  
"Well I don't want to be the cryer, I want to be stronger."  
  
"Tears don't show weakness, Stiles. They show just how empathetic you are."  
  
Stiles snorted, the verge of tears suck in his throat.  
  
"So what's wrong?"  
  
"My dad was fired today. The brass thought it looked poorly upon the county to have a sherif with a son stealing police property and getting a restraining order. He blames me, I can see that. I know that he does. He claims we're okay, but we're not. I've always been a burden to him."  
  
"He doesn't blame you."  
  
"How can you know that, ever since mom died... I'm that nutjob, eccentric, erratic son of the Sheriff... The freak."  
  
"Well good thing I'm a nutjob to."  
  
"Hardly," Stiles scoffed.  
  
"You forgot I was wanted for murder, never charged, and mostly because of you and Scott, but regardless."  
  
Stiles chuckled, "Let's not forget violent and full of empty threats."  
  
"I wouldn't call them empty, because if you don't get under the covers I'm going to rip your throat out with my teeth."  
  
"Promises promises," Stiles said.  
  
Derek growled, his eyes shifted, and his face transformed. "Get under the covers."  
  
Stiles swallowed suddenly and jumped to get under the covers, before looking back to Derek who prowled towards him across the top of the covers. He slid in next to Stiles, his face going back to normal, but his eyes still red and demanding. "You forget," he said, taking Stiles mouth forcefully. His tongue forced into the teen's mouth without warning. He broke from Stiles. "The moon is nearly full and my instincts are going ballistic. The wolf gets what the wolf wants." He plunged into another kiss, taking Stiles lower lip into his mouth and suckling. Stiles threw his hands to Derek's side, holding on, but Derek with his own removed Stiles hands and pinned them above his head. Straddling Stiles, Derek pressed his own groin into his lover's own, their bodies reacting appropriately against the pressure. A low growl rumbled in his chest as they kissed, sending Stiles into a lusty ball of hormones and emotions. He squirmed under Derek, writhing his hands in his werewolf's larger grip. He thrust his body forward, grinding into Derek.  
  
Derek released Stiles' hands, which flung at his werewolf's clothes without hesitation. He nearly tore off Derek's shirt, and he had to let Derek help himself with his jean's button for his hands were fumbling and shaking from the sheer desire he was feeling. Once off, Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek's manhood, the fact that his werewolf went commando, forcing a moan from the teen. Contrarily Derek made quick work of Stiles' clothing, gently taking off his lover's shirt and doffing the teen's pants and underwear in a hurry.  
  
Derek took hold of Stiles hand that were around his shaft, and pinned them above his head once more. His werewolf trailed his tongue from Stiles' mouth, down his chin, across his neck, and slowly, ever so slowly, licking down Stiles' torso. He stopped around the abdomen, stretching his body so that he could continue holding Stiles' hands securely above his head and taking him into his mouth. Derek flicked his tongue across the underside of Stiles growing erection, sending whimpers from his lover, who writhed under his touch. Gently, he took Stiles into his mouth, apply suction skillful as he drew the teen completely into his mouth. His tongue mercilessly swirled around the head and coiling around the shaft. Stiles couldn't help, but thrust into his werewolf's mouth relentlessly as Derek drew him close to the edge. Without warning, however, Derek's particular oral warmth departed, and took his mouth suddenly. The taste of himself caught in his mouth with Derek's as Stiles fought a loosing battle with his tongue.  
  
Without warning, Stiles hands were free, as Derek moved his pelvis closer to his lover's face, his erection bobbing right in front of the teen's mouth. Stiles blushed, his face already rouged from the excite. The head pressed against his lips domineeringly demanding entrance. Stiles complied, opening his mouth and letting the organ passing into his mouth. Derek gave him now time to adjust to the foreign mass, and thrusted vigorously into the open cavity. As Derek's manhood passed between his lips, he tightened and released, apply suction when possible. He glanced up at his lover, their eyes met and through some link between them made the pace of Derek's actions quicken. Stiles gripped onto his werewolf's posterior. His fingers slithered toward Derek's entrance, teasingly probing around the ring. Growling, Derek picked Stiles up, bring him back down face forward on the bed. His hands spread Stiles, open, and used his fingers to prepare his lover most cruelly. Slowly drawing one finger in after the other, spending considerable time with each. Stiles moaned, cried out, and thrust into the fingers making their way into him, wanting more, wanting them to go deeper. "More!"  
  
Derek's chuckle was heard, but was nearly covered by a snarl that ripped through his lover. He pressed his cock against the small of Stiles back teasingly, drawing it across the middle of Stiles arse. He pressed into Stiles' ring, slowly, only working the head around circularly. Stiles bucked backward, attempting further his lover's ravaging of him, but Derek pressed a hand to his back forcing him back down. Stiles let out a growl, attempting to get through his sourwolf's thick skull. Inching forward, Derek pushed himself further into Stiles, no longer holding back. He began his thrusting suddenly, driving out a cry from his lover. Stiles lifted his hips up, positioning himself on his knees with his head low.  
  
Derek grappled onto Stiles hips using him for support as he ravaged Stiles entirely. Meanwhile, Stiles was grinding his teeth together, not letting himself cry out. Soon the pain would depart and pleasure would form from their union. It didn't take long before moans and groans were elicited from Stiles, as Derek plunged into him. Stiles clenched the beg sheets, rocking back and worth, deepening Derek's pursuit.  
  
Derek loosened his grip on his lover's hips, and with some assistance from Stiles flipped him, still attached, onto his back. Derek looked into Stiles' eyes, he could see the lust and desire swelling in those brown pools. Stiles found enough sanity to take one of Derek's hands with one of his own, and tightly entwined them, whitening his own as he held on to his lover as tightly as he could. Derek pressed himself close to his lover, ramming himself in and out, while their mouths met.  
  
Stiles legs clutched onto Derek's body, as they jerked forward and back. Through grunts from Derek, Stiles threw himself against Derek, his body reacting to the primal urges that developed. Derek soon quickened his pace, the pressure of their union drawing him over the edge and forcing a moan from his werewolf's lips that he heard so rarely. Stiles grip tightened on Derek's hand as his werewolf came into him.  
  
Derek quickly pulled out and dropped down to Stiles manhood. Taking the weeping organ into his mouth, not giving Stiles anytime to prepare himself. His tongue viciously tortured Stiles erection, probing along the underside and encircling the head with the same expertise he had before. Soon, Stiles hands clenched and unclenched, signalling his proximity to climax.  
  
"Close," Stiles moaned out weakly.  
  
Derek continued faster, taking his lover deep into his throat, swallowing, and humming fiendishly, sending Stiles over the edge and coming into his lover's mouth. Derek's slip slid out from the corners of his mouth along with what he couldn't handle of Stiles aftermath. He went over Stiles manhood with tongue and suckled, cleaning off his lover before bring his mouth to Stiles, which in the haze he took and probed with his tongue before Derek took control.  
  
Soon Derek fell to Stiles' side, exhausted and spent. His lover faced into him, not letting go of Derek's hand he had encaged with his own. He quickly took his werewolf's mouth with his own, before speaking. "I did something, you saw, right."  
  
"Yes I saw," Derek said, his breathing still laboured.  
  
"Impressed?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"You patronizing me?" Stiles asked, opening his eyes and looking into Derek's. "I'll know if your lying."  
  
"That's my line," Derek said. "But no, I'm not patronizing you."  
  
"I love you," Stiles said. "I love you Derek Hale and don't you dare forget it."  
  
"I love you too, Stiles," Derek said. "Now get some sleep."  
  
"But I actually did, I got the ash to complete the circle and it worked. It worked. It—"  
  
Derek kissed Stiles stopping Stiles from continuously rambling, and muttered into Stiles mouth, "I know."  
  
Stiles smiled, and let his eyes shut, and his head to fall to the pillow, before snuggling closer to Derek. He closed his eyes again and fell asleep.


	14. Lunar

The winds of change, as cliché as that was, was in the air. The winds from the east stirred and forged a radiating amalgamation with that of the west. They billowed through the trees and told their stories in their hushed voices; the faraway tales of what was, what is, and what has yet to happen being whispered about. Aidan stood there, the forest floor under his feet and his head held high listening. The dawn was breaking, oranges spilling out over reds and yellows in an array of lights. He squinted, turning his head away from the light protectively. He turned around, his shadow extending behind him. He walked towards the road.  
  
Stiles awoke to a tongue being dragged down his naked body, crawling across his chest and down towards his navel, leaving hickeys as he went. Stiles opened his eyes, watching Derek as he headed towards his cock. He looked so intent as he brought his tongue across the tip of the teen's tip. He thrusted into his werewolf, enjoying the sensation of Derek gagging slightly before he adjusted. He brought Stiles deep into his mouth, toward the back of his throat, humming and swallowing as he did so. He smiled before he pulled off of Stiles and climbed onto him, the teen's semi-erection sliding along the crack of his werewolf's taut ass. Further hardening him from the sheer pressure.  
  
Derek brought their mouths together, the taste of Stiles pre-come in both their mouths as Derek's brought his tongue into Stiles' mouth. They broke, needing oxygen, and giving Stiles a chance to speak.  
  
"Good morning to you to," Stiles said, seemingly jovial. "If I knew you'd wake me up every morning like this I'd come over more often."  
  
Derek growled, he thrust back into Stiles now full erection, driving Stiles to buck as response. Derek hungrily left a hickey on the side of Stiles' neck, leaving a nice purple bruises as an act of claiming. The teen moaned, stretching his neck out, and longingly dragging his nails down his werewolf's back.  
  
Derek left another purpling bruise on his neck, near the middle of the jaw. Stiles squirmed under the pressure, his body uncontrollably writhing under Derek's weight, his erection bobbing against Derek's arse.  
  
"What's gotten into you," Stiles managed to shutter out.  
  
"The full moon," Derek said, his breathing laboured, heavy. "The alpha wants his mate."  
  
"Then let him have him," Stiles said. "Let me roll over."  
  
Stiles attempted to get up to move into position to accept Derek's growing manhood, but his werewolf wouldn't let him up. The teen whimpered, wanting to feel Derek inside him, wanting to feel him open him up, and enjoy as Derek took him roughly. "Fuck me."  
  
His werewolf pulled the bottle of lubricant from where he had left it and asked for one of Stiles' hands of which he gave willingly thinking Derek was going to make him work himself out. He had scene several pornographic demonstrations before he had his werewolf take care of his... needs.  
  
Derek moved toward, straddling Stiles more closely and bring the teen's lubed hand toward his own rear, blushing self-consciously as he did so. He lowered himself toward Stiles, spreading his cheeks apart and allowing Stiles fingers to come close to his entrance.  
  
"Seriously?" Stiles asked bewildered. "I wish it was the full moon more often," Stiles added softly.  
  
"Either put your fingers in, or your cock. One or the other, preferably your cock, unless of course you want me to rip your throat out with my teeth," Derek replied, growling as felt Stiles press a finger teasingly against his opening.  
  
Stiles pushed another finger in, Derek was tight and took quite a lot of the lube he had built up in his palm to loosen. His hole clenched around both of his digits, making each reinsertion of his fingers elicit moans from Derek that he hadn't heard before.  
  
"Fuck," Derek said, as the third finger was pressed in and Stiles withdrew them and brought them back in rapidly. "Just put it in, Stiles."  
  
"You're so tight," Stiles said. "And, sure my stamina's built up since you and I've been going out, but Derek..."  
  
Derek reached around, Stiles' erection was slicked with ample loads of his own pre-ejaculate. He wrapped his fingers around Stiles manhood and pressed it against his wanton hole. He accepted Stiles, the head being clenched by Derek's tight ring.  
  
"So tight," Stiles moaned out.  
  
Derek pushed more of Stiles in, thrusting back into teen's erection. Stiles could see his werewolf's face, there was both pain and pleasure that would soon dissipate into ecstasy. The teen knew all too well that feeling, that line between pain and pleasure. He had Stiles completely in him and began to lift himself off and then plunge back down onto Stiles's manhood. Again and again, Derek fucked himself on his lover.  
  
"Derek," Stiles moaned out.  
  
Derek pulled off of Stiles. It was odd seeing Derek so submissive, even though he was in full control of the situation. He went toward the foot of the bed, bending over and presenting himself to Stiles, his forehead pressed against the sheets, his arse in the air, his hole exposed to the chill of the room. He shivered. "Stiles. I want you."  
  
At Derek's words Stiles broke, clambering up and pressing his oozing cock into his werewolf's devouring entrance. He quickly thrust into his lover, gripping his werewolf's hips and rocking in and out of Derek. Stiles, getting close to his climax pulled out from his lover and began to pump his cock, but Derek groaned. "In me," Derek commanded.  
  
Stiles put his cock back into Derek and thrusted as best as he could before he came into his werewolf, moaning out as he did so. Derek could feel Stiles aftermath in him and his wolf went haywire. He managed to pick Stiles up and put him on his back and with only Derek's own leaking dick as lubricant, pressing himself into Stiles and fucked him hard.  
  
Stiles moaned and cried out as Derek brought himself to his own climax, having Stiles' own aftermath within him and trickling from his abused entrance.  
  
"Derek," Stiles moaned out, wanting him to go faster, rougher, harder. His lover complied and quickened his pace, coming to his own peek as Stiles had, but with much more stamina and endurance. He brought himself closer to Stiles, taking Stiles' mouth with his own.  
  
"So good," Derek breathed out, growling after and rumbling in his chest for quite awhile.  
  
Stiles moans became more desperate and vocal, and his muscles clenching around Derek as his body became focused on one task, giving his werewolf pleasure.  
  
"So tight," Derek let out.  
  
Stiles bite into Derek's shoulder, pressing hard enough to nearly break the skin. Derek came into Stiles, pulling out, and letting the aftermath dribble out.  
  
"How's your wolf now," Stiles said, smirking, his breathing hot and heavy.  
  
"Satisfied," Derek huffed out.  
  
"Your mate approves," Stiles said, as he pushed Derek down, straddled him, and took his mouth sequentially. "I have two requests."  
  
"What is that," Derek said, bathed in his afterglow.  
  
"Well one, I'd like you to come to Macy's with me and help me pick out a gift for Lidia. Now don't get mad sourwolf. It's her birthday, on the fool moon, and the entire school has been invited and gifts are mandatory."  
  
"I'll go, but under duress, and you better not let her touch you or even look a you. It's the full moon and if I feel at all threatened, I could show up and drag you away."  
  
"Don't tempt me," Stiles said.  
  
Derek chuckled, but there was deep rumble in his throat that signified his annoyance. "And the second request."  
  
"Well, it's more of a question," Stiles said, red filling his cheeks from embarrassment.  
  
"Should I be worried?"  
  
"I should be," Stiles said.  
  
One of Derek's eyebrows rose. "Out with it!"  
  
"Was that your first time," Stiles asked.  
  
"First time for what?" Derek replied coyly.  
  
"Sex."  
  
"No, you know that I'm not knew with sex," Derek said, still playing with Stiles.  
  
"I mean anal sex, jackass," Stiles said.  
  
"I suppose I should be honest, since I was your first—"  
  
"You sure about that?" Stiles said, before Derek rolled Stiles onto his back took his mouth.  
  
"Positive."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Yes," Derek said.  
  
Stiles smiled softly, enjoying the comforting idea that they both were each other's first, or at least when it came to their kind of relationship.  
  
"We can go later, five-ish, and you an get Isaac to pick up some chinese or something. I'd like to shower, but that can wait, I think I'd like to remain filthy for awhile."  
  
"What are you suggesting we do in the meantime?" Derek asked.  
  
"I can think of something... Actually several somethings," Stiles said, feeling Derek's manhood stiffen at his words.  
  



	15. Tormenting Furies

Yesterday had been a blur of many things, a lot of which could be metaphorically tied with rabbits. They had spent the rest of that day together until Stiles had described they he was feeling an odd combination of satisfaction from their loud, powerful, and delicious union, and filthy. It wasn't that he minded, but they both smelt of sweat and aftermath.  
  
They both dressed in a whirlwind of banter, sexual advances, and slaps from Stiles as they left and got into his jeep. Within minutes they were in front of Stiles' home. His father's car was missing from its usually spot in the driveway, and he could tell that his father had left early in the morning and didn't even leave him a message on his mobile. His dad always knew when he needed space — when they both needed space. Derek practically dragged him into his own home; his strong controlling hands picking him up once they were inside and carrying him upstairs.  
  
With remarkable precision and speed Derek had Stiles naked, cold, standing in front of his werewolf feeling rather self-conscious. He blushed and averted his eyes, but when Derek put his hands on his shoulders he turned to face his lover, not looking away, not being shy.  
  
He glanced at the locked door before turning the faucet on and getting the water just right, before dropping to his knees in front of Derek. He was glad that Derek hadn't worn a belt, for his fumbling hands could barely manage the button. His fumbles were due to his ADHD and his eagerness. Derek's erection sprung forward from out his jeans and smacked Stiles lips that were right in front, waiting.  
  
Stiles licked his lips, the taste of Derek's pre-come now in his mouth from where his werewolf's cock had tapped them. Stiles looked up at his boyfriend's erection and took it in his mouth. His mouth worked quickly, taking Derek deep and humming against the erection in his mouth. He could hear Derek moan, growl, and enjoyed the feeling of his werewolf pulling his hair and forcing his cock deeper into his mouth. He nearly gagged, but Stiles took it in stride and let his lover thrust in and out of his mouth, fucking him deep. Until he pulled out, not wanting to end this moment until he was sated and his wolf had his fun.  
  
Stiles looked disappointing — empty, but he licked his lips and used his hand to clean up the drool and excess that had escaped him. He stood up and went into the shower, bending over tauntingly, and bracing himself against the wall of the shower. He turned towards Derek, his eyes with their pupils blown from desire, and he licked his lips languidly.  
  
The moon, even in the morning before was pressing on Derek's mind. He could feel its pull, dragging his wolf from its dormancy and calling for release. He quickly stripped off his shirt and stepped into the tube, his erection full, hard, and bobbing as he got into the shower. The water hit his back, as he pressed his body close to Stiles. His cock trailing along the teen's ass. It was oozing and wanting, and Stiles bucked back into his werewolf's hard erection, forcing a growl from Derek that made himself harden tellingly.  
  
Derek brought his mouth to the side of Stiles' neck, applying suction and marking the teen with a hickey and a nip that would be hidden by the collar of his shirt, even though he was incredibly tempted to leave a visible mark for that Lydia girl to see.  
  
Out of jealously and, to be honest, horniness, took hold of his own erection and lined it up and spread Stiles. Stiles was quivering and Derek leaned into the teen. The head was surrounded by Stiles' tightening muscles. Derek had to lean closer to Stiles, and leave a trail of kisses down his neck and whispered softly into the teen's ears, "Relax."  
  
Stiles took several long and steady breaths, before Derek pressed further into Stiles, his wantoning holes clenching, but letting Derek force his way in further and a moan coming from the teen beneath him. Once he was hilted into Stiles, he pulled out, leaving the head in before plunging back in. Stiles loudly moaned an groaned each time that Derek pushed in or hit the right spot.  
  
The teen clenched his teeth when the pain would hit, but it became less and less, as his body got used to the fires of pain and pleasure. He leaned back with each thrust, taking Derek deeper, and arching his back. Derek had to admit then that his lover was beautiful, in an odd and corky way, but still beautiful. The way his body craved his, and the way his spine arched and his mouth and facial features would react to everyone of his moves.  
  
He grinned and thrusted in and out hard and rough, and liking the moans and gasps. With another soft whisper into the teen's eyes, Stiles shifted, Derek's cock still lodged within him, and helped his werewolf turn him over and allow for him to wrap his arms around Derek's neck.  
  
Derek could see each reaction in Stiles' eyes, could watch as the teen's lips would part and let out a moan, and would blush so innocently as he made such vulgar noises. They brought their lips together, their tongues, and Derek would take control and suck on Stiles tongue, his lips.  
  
"Harder!" Stiles groaned out. Derek complied and took him harder, enjoying the moans that Stiles gave him in return. "So close," the teen breathed out again.  
  
"Come for me," Derek said, taking Stiles' erection in his hands and pumping to the rhythm of his own thrusts. Derek's hand was slick with Stiles' pre-come and the sounds that were coming from their mouths and their movements were sending them both over the edge. Soon Stiles came into Derek's hand; the werewolf brought his hand to his mouth, and licked away some of his prize before bring his mouth to Stiles'. He took his sticky hand and dragged it along Stiles' chest, leaving behind the aftermath.  
  
Soon Derek quickened his pace before he lodged himself as deep as he could before coming with a groan and then a growling that shook through him unyieldingly. The warmth inside him radiated further, and Stiles tended his grasp to hug Derek as tightly as he could.  
  
His breath laboured, Derek chuckled in his ear. The hot and heavy breath warming his ear even in the water. "If I didn't have to go to the party I'd suggest a second round."  
  
They washed and dressed, Derek had brought an extra pair of clothes and was glad that Stiles was so very quick to wash up his clothes and have them ready for him. Stiles, however, had spent quite a long while picking what he was going to wear, and what he was going to give Lydia. He had picked up many things, including a television, but that was too big of a present.  
  
Derek watched jealous, and pouted from Stiles' bed as he looked on. Stiles prepped and looked at Derek, his pout evident and enjoyable.  
  
Stiles pranced over to Derek and threw himself into Derek's arms, forcing his werewolf to fall back on to the bed. Stiles brought his lips to Derek's and licked across the lips before Derek let him in.  
  
"Don't be jealous sourwolf," Stiles said affectionately. "I'm yours. All yours."  
  
"Better be," Derek said, taking Stiles' lips, but this time taking full control and letting Stiles get no ground in their embrace.  
  
"I'll come over after the party, unless I get caught up with Scott... We haven't spoken much lately," Stiles said.  
  
"I'll hold you to that; want me to drive you?"  
  
"No," Stiles said. "It'll be fine, but you can drive me later." He smirked.  
  
"Tempt me some more and I might wolf out and take you party or no party," Derek said, his devilish grin-smirk on his face.  
  
"I expect you'll be doing that later regardless."  
  
"Get going," Derek said.  
  
"But I like our banter."  
  
"Shut up, Stiles."  
  
Stiles pressed his lips to Derek's before leaving and going to pick up Scott. Derek went to fetch his car from where he had left it and went to go secure his pack in their chains that he had shown them earlier that day. It was going to be a rough night for them all.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Just hold me, Derek," Stiles said, as he buried his head into Derek's chest. He could still feel the paralytic toxin coursing through him — even if it was fading. He was shivering, even if he warm against his werewolf and under the covers. "Just stay."  
  
"There is too much going on Stiles, I should be out looking for him. Peter is back, Scott betrayed me, and I think that Gerard killed Matt," Derek said, his tone had shifted, it was harsh and direct.  
  
"I know, but what's happened... What's happened has hurt me, and Peter is too smart, Gerard has hunters everywhere, and Scott's probably got some cocked up plan going on."  
  
Derek sighed, which came into existence as a mixture of a sigh and growl of frustration. "Fine. For once I think you're right." There was a moment of silence between them, who could feel Stiles' tears wetting his shirt, and he didn't know what to do. Stiles wasn't sobbing, he was still crying. Tears forming, rolling, and wetting. "Tell me what happened?"  
  
Derek could hear Stiles sniffle back his tears. "What about you? With Peter back, I'm still not sure how that happened, and the fact we were almost killed by the Kanima and a homicidal teenager... And Scott's being Scott. How are you."  
  
Derek chucked, "I think my problems can wait. What happened Stiles?" He was just glad that Stiles hadn't lost his sarcasm and wit.  
  
Stiles took a moment to surface from Derek's chest, and Derek planted a kiss instinctually on the teen's cheek before any words were dealt.  
  
"There was something in the punch," Stiles said. "That much I know. I don't know who put something in the punch, but I saw my dad... He said I had killed my mom and was killing him. He's right, I've ruined his career and mum... And mum..." Stiles couldn't finish. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, tightening the small distance between them.  
  
"It's not your fault. If anything, blame Peter... Blame me."  
  
"I don't blame you. I may blame Peter... But not you. I don't even blame werewolves. Why blame an entire group of people for the acts of a handful."  
  
"You assume there are more like Peter?"  
  
"I have no doubt. If humans are cruel, then so werewolves must been as divided as the rest of us."  
  
Derek smiled, Stiles' mind was another draw to him. "Somehow Peter managed to us me to bring him back, I'm still Alpha, I know that... I can feel it still. But he still weakened me."  
  
Stiles thought for a moment, the wheels of his mind practically screeching audibly. "He's weak right?"  
  
"Deaton said that, yes."  
  
"Deaton was there?!"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"We do make a good pair don't we," Stiles said tangentially, thinking back on the night's events in the police station.  
  
Derek smiled again, Stiles was beginning to believe he actually was breaking into the warmth his werewolf had sealed away when his sister, and probably, when his family had died. "We do. Oddly enough we do."  
  
Stiles grew quiet for a moment. He took several breaths, steading his mind and his body all at once. His lower lip trembled. "I felt so helpless, Derek." There was a pause — a long drawn out, unbearable pause in which Derek nor Stiles spoke, but just held each other. "I watch Matt take his gun to my dad. It was the butt, but regardless, it was still a gun. I knew my dad's work was dangerous. I know that. But he's all I have left." Derek braced himself. "Peter offered me the bite, I think I've told you that before. He took my hand and was going to. I pulled a way at the last moment."  
  
"You didn't tell me this before," Derek said, his jealous, his anger, his wolf was all in motion.  
  
Stiles disregarded Derek's anger and continued. "I can't help, but feel like if I had accepted it, things would be different."  
  
"Things could have been worse," Derek said. "The hunters could have killed you."  
  
"There's that," Stiles said. "But maybe I could have protected him dad."  
  
"Or you could be dead, and then I couldn't be holding you right now."  
  
Stiles smiled, and yet Derek could tell that there was a distance between them for a moment. He looked up to meet his werewolf's eyes. "I'm glad your alright."  
  
The moon's effects were waning, but he could feel the residual effects. "I can think of a way to celebrate." Derek took hold of Stiles and managed to straddle him. He bent his head down and took hold of Stiles' lips, forcing his way into his teen's mouth and battling against Stiles' tongue.  
  
Break to breath Stiles chuckled darkly, "Can I top again?"  
  
Derek, stunned, took a moment to register. He grabbed hold of Stiles' shoulders and with violent grace flipped their position. He looked up to meet Stiles' eyes with a sinister grin-smirk on his face, and brought his lips to Stiles by forcing the teen's head down with one of his strong hands.  
  
"Forceful are we," Stiles said.  
  
"If I'm doing this, I'm gonna at least be the one to orchestrate it," Derek said, blushing. Wait, Stiles thought. Did he just blush. "Shut up Stiles!"  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
"You were thinking it!"  
  
"I couldn't help it," Stiles said. He pulled his shirt awkwardly, before he slid Derek's off with a little help. He stalled for a moment unable to handle the pressure; or at least the pressure that was in his head, and voicing disbelief that someone like Derek would love him. Want him. Take him. Derek thrust upward, shocking Stiles and unbuttoned his own pants releasing his growing manhood from it's clothed prison.  
  
Stiles managed to get out of his own pants with incredible difficult and nervousness that was unbecoming to Stiles, but was incredibly enchanting to Derek.  
  
Their hardnesses pressed against one another, Stiles brought his lips to Derek's, and let his werewolf have them. Derek with necessary bravado took hold of the lips presented to him and then let them drop. He spread his legs and arms, as if in defeat, and spoke quickly. "You have full reign."  
  
Stiles hands were quacking, but he made his way down Derek's body, taking his tongue and gliding it across the plains and crests of his abs with a salacious languidness. Before bring himself down toward Derek's manhood. He took it into his mouth, taunting him briefly before departing and suggestion to his werewolf to turn over.  
  
Stiles spread Derek's legs and brought his mouth to his werewolf's entrance; his tongue coated him and toyed with him. Extracting moans from Derek, those that, to Stiles, sounded like his own by which Derek elicited from him. He slicked Derek good before, popping three of his own fingers in his mouth before slipping one into Derek. Another. Then the last, until his werewolf was ready for him.  
  
Stiles guided himself in carefully, feeling the tightness before Derek relaxed himself and allowed his lover further access. He cried out as Stiles thrust in completely to the hilt. He gripped Derek's hips before he rammed himself in again, getting more delicious moans from his wolven lover.  
  
Soon, far sooner than he had intended, he came. Derek seemed to enjoy himself after the pain had subsided and his body was getting used to the intrusion.  
  
Stiles pulled out, bring his mouth again to Derek's manhood that was erect and slick. His tongue darted forth and ensnared its prize. He took his werewolf deep into his mouth, before Derek began to thrust in and out his mouth. He was having trouble containing the forceful manhood in his mouth, but he managed. He took Derek deep before he swallowed several times bring the werewolf too close to climax.  
  
Closing the deal per se, Stiles worked his hardest to improve his game. Soon Derek came, the excess running down the teen's chin before he could managed the rest of his werewolf's aftermath. He licked his lips tauntingly before, climbing on top of Derek and pressing their mouths together.  
  
Stiles breathed, breaking a part from Derek, before speaking in panting breaths, "I think that counts as Thank God We're Alive Sex."  
  
"Probably."  
  
"Probably."  
  
Stiles rolled off and cuddling into Derek, before they both found the best position to have a comfortable night. Derek, sighed, as he watched as his lover fell asleep. He started to think over all that had happened. Lydia had brought him to Peter, maybe she had been bewitched by Peter, God knows, but he didn't trust her — maybe his distrust was born from Stiles longstanding love for her. He didn't know. Sleep became more and more comforting as the adrenaline faded and his eyelids grew heavy. Damn. He wanted to watch Stiles sleep some more, his cute little face and the way in which his nose twitched, but he had to give in. He drifted to sleep, his entire body seemingly wrapped around Stiles'.  
  



	16. Pathos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On FF there was once someone who asked after I said that I was going to continue after the show started up again, why I hadn't had them talk to the sheriff, but I will once I find a proper place in the next season.
> 
> I've got another story dubbed INAY: I'm Not Afraid of You... It's 18k words as of now, and I'm working on finish it. It's a one shot, or two shot. God knows. I'm on tumblr: Burningsama, although I post things via twSterek.

Stiles sat in contemplation— no, in self-reflective isolation, introspection. Asyndetic absences felt necessary, even within his own mind; they seemed to edge the tension way that jolted frantically around his mind... Because, because they could. After all, he thought, when I've killed one parent, I've killed two. He had been shouldering that guilt since the wolfsbane 'debacle' at Lydia's birthday party. There were no tears — he had done enough of that — and he just sat there, on the edge of Derek's makeshift bed wondering. Thinking about everything that had happened. And what was going to happen. And misquoting— changing a bit of Sylvia Plath's poetry just felt right.  
  
Stiles' face was still battered; the hues of red from the scrapes and from where the platelets were busily doing their job repairing the damaged flesh and capillaries. The bruises were purpling, fading, even though it had only been a few hours.  
  
He touched his face with his hand, it was warm and he winced at even the light pressure. Gerard had done a number on his face; Lydia had done a number on his heart; and he couldn't help but feel... lost.  
  
He reflected, in part upon the past with Derek and the events that had happened recently. His face, thus, was more of a reminder for the day than he had wanted, nor had he intended on his mouth causing such destruction. Alison had gone mental; Derek's pack was being picked off, partially due to their own stupidity and partially because of Derek; and Scott. Scott had thrown everything into chaos in his usual self-absorbed and selfless method that either showed a great lack of thought or a great deal of forethought. Paradoxical.  
  
Lydia, Stiles thought. Lydia. She had torn his heart asunder, brutally, wholly, leaving no thought that there was ever a future that involved them together. Oddly enough, even though he had Derek, it still stung, as if his preteen life (which had been devoted to her) had been remorselessly rent from him. A wound had been left; emotions flooded in, unwanted.  
  
"Oh God!" Stiles exclaimed, alone. "I scratched my car. My jeep!"  
  
He brought his knees up to his chest and tucked his head against them. "Fuck!" He paused. "Fuckity fuck."  
  
"Is that an offer?" Derek said, coming into the room.  
  
Stiles lifted his head and said nothing.  
  
Derek said down right next to Stiles at the end of his bed. His werewolf's arm wrapped around him securely, his warmth becoming his own. He just held Stiles; silent, just holding him close. He leant his head closer to Stiles, kissed his cheek (his scruff grazing him), before resting on Stiles' shoulder.  
  
Derek lifted his head and just stared. His muscles tensed, "Who did that to you?"  
  
"It's nothing."  
  
"It's not nothing, Stiles!"  
  
"My dad said something similar," Stiles said. He (and Lydia) had left a note for his father that he was going to be staying with Scot before getting into his jeep and ramming it through a wall.  
  
Derek growled, possessive? Stiles didn't know. He brought a hand against Stiles' cheek. "It wasn't Peter?"  
  
"No. It was Gerard."  
  
Derek growled, but Stiles brought a hand to meet the lips of his lover. They pressed there for a moment silencing his werewolf. Silencing his lover. Silencing the appropriate response. "Please, Derek. Don't." Derek stopped. He got from his seat, the emptiness left, shook Stiles more than he thought it would... should.  
  
His arms wrapped around Stiles and lifted him into his arms. They were around the same height, but to Stiles it felt like Derek at that moment toppled over him and took hold of him. He lay Stiles down, after he moved aside the covers, and pushed himself against his lover. Their mouthes meeting, Stiles whimpered, wanting more connection. His hands devilishly— no they were too weak to be devilishly, they were timid and wanton, as he suggested to Derek to remove their shirts.  
  
Within no time their shirts were off, Stiles was naked, Derek was naked, and Stiles wrapped his legs around his werewolf's waist, using his latching legs to secure himself. His words failed him, they always would at such a moment. He took a breath, none of the courage he had when he had asked to dominate Derek was left. His body wanted to be subjugated, wanted his werewolf to have his way with him. Bite him— Harm him. Did it matter. It didn't.  
  
"Take me. Please," Stiles whimpered out, his voice soft, harmed.  
  
Derek looked down into Stiles eyes, they were red, Stiles' were puffy and his cheek enflamed under both blush and bruise. He knew what Stiles wanted, and he couldn't help but relate; his family had been killed, it had been his fault, and so under the same weight in which they both carry, Derek hardened as if on cue, forcing Stiles to gasp and his own member follow the same direction.  
  
"Give me the bite— or just bite me. Take me. Just... I want you. I need. I—"  
  
Derek's mouth met Stiles' again, preventing more words etched with such depression from resurfacing and leaving its melancholy-heart-wrenching aura clinging to them both. His wolf wanted to give his lover his particular gift, but Derek had himself under control and only brought his mouth to suckle gently on the side of Stiles' throat.  
  
Stiles squirmed under his pressure, under his body, and Derek soaked it in, enjoying it. Stiles blush out-shaded the bruise and he wriggled loose from his werewolf's grasp, long enough to bring himself to Derek's manhood and putting his mouth against the tip. He coyly let his mouth linger there, agonizingly, and guided his tongue along the underside of shaft. He whimpered (deliciously) as Derek pulled gently on his hair, but not forcing Stiles to take him deeper. Stiles, however, pushed himself down on his lover's impressive manhood, not gagging, but having trouble breathing momentarily before he found his 'sea-legs' so to speak. He hummed and swallowed rhythmically, before Derek couldn't handle it anymore, particularly when drool had only slightly escaped the corners of Stiles' mouth.  
  
He withdrew himself, looking again into Stiles' eyes, noticing the pathetic look in his eyes and the whimper from the newly created and gone void. He looked up to Derek's red eyes before moving to be right next to Derek near the head of the bed. He rested his head against a pillow before letting his arse rise and present itself to his werewolf. Derek took no time to press his manhood against his entrance, not spending unnecessary time stretching Stiles, because he knew that Stiles would accept him wholly particularly when he was so wanton.  
  
He thrusted continuously in a pace that allowed Stiles to adjust, and to push back into each pounding forcing to deepen their union. He screamed, Derek grunted, and he whimpered over and over in rhythms and patterns. Derek withdrew himself, his erection bobbing as he moved Stiles to face him before forcing himself back in with a delicate, seductive gasp.  
  
Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, letting one hand dig nails into his werewolf's hand and the other to card through Derek's hair. His legs brought themselves against Derek's waist and tighten. Meanwhile Derek clasped Stiles' erection and let his hand bring Stiles close to completion while he increased his pace and brought himself there.  
  
Stiles spilled between them and on Derek's hand who brought it to his mouth and tasted what his lover had left him. He brought his mouth to Stiles', and kissed him, his tongue darting around. He gave a sinister growl and smirk before thrusting harder and quicker, before coming into his lover. He gave two or three completed thrusts before pulling out, his member still hard, but the rest of his body wanting to just cuddle next to his lover. They could go again later, but for now he wanted to hold Stiles. Hold him close, and not let the evils of the world touch him again.  
  
Stiles missed the void left him Derek's hardness, but he embraced and revelled in the fact that Derek was his, and was wanting to cuddle again him. He took Derek's mouth before adjusting himself, in an embrace. They were pressed together, Stiles' left leg around Derek's body; their manhoods pressed together, wet, and wanting; their hands intertwined; and their heads forehead to forehead, sharing each other's breath.  
  
Hours, those fickle bastards flew by without either of them really intending them to. Stiles lay wrapped in Derek's arms. He shuffled, waking his werewolf from his slumber. The teen sighed, "I left my bag in the other room with my phone. I'm gonna check if my dad's left me any message. Go back to sleep."  
  
Stiles unlatched himself with only little resistance from his hulking boyfriend who wanted nothing but for him to stay there. Stiles to wanted that, but he needed to check his phone. He had a feeling his father was searching for him, but the message was clear and straightforward and Scott was going to play along.  
  
He quickly pulled one of Derek's leather jackets on; the jacket had miraculously managed to rest on the dresser, how it had managed to be thrown there during the unclothing of them both was beyond him. Derek smiled before he nestled down on to the pillow and closing his eyes.  
  
Stiles left and searched the room for his backpack; he had left it in the subway car.  
  
"Looking for this," Peter whispered. Stiles' backpack was in his hand.  
  
"I was," Stiles said, wondering if he should shout out for Derek because he knew that running was pointless, although he knew that Peter was weakened.  
  
"So your sleeping with Derek, hm? Regret not taking the bite?" Peter's tone seemed to encapsulate several of Stiles' thoughts, and yet he didn't want to admit or shown any form of recognition.  
  
"I love Derek." Was Stiles' honest and short reply. "He's mine."  
  
"Possessive are we?"  
  
"Very," Stiles said, his eyes glaring.  
  
"Regretting?"  
  
"No," Stiles said. He lied. Peter knew.  
  
Peter chuckled. "I could—"  
  
"No," Stiles interrupted. "If I was ever to accept the bite it would be from Derek."  
  
"It could kill you," Peter said.  
  
"No. It won't."  
  
"You seem sure."  
  
"If he did it, I know."  
  
Peter puttered for a moment. "You're underage you know..."  
  
"Only in prudish US," Stiles grumbled. "No animosity? I— we killed you."  
  
"Why revel in the past?"  
  
"Sounds rehearsed," Stiles said.  
  
"I had a lot of time to think about."  
  
"I bet."  
  
Peter gave Stiles back his backpack, before Stiles retreated towards Derek's door, before Peter spoke again. "Tell Derek I'd like to speak with him."  
  
"Will do," Stiles said, weirded out that he had just had a normal... ish conversation.  
  
He returned to Derek's room with his backpack. He rustled through his bag, retrieved his phone. No message from his father, he sighed, he frowned.  
  
"What's wrong?" Derek said. "Was it what Peter said? Or was it your dad?"  
  
"Peter didn't say anything, but you heard all of it anyway. I was just hoping that my dad would have left me message." Stiles crawled into Derek's bed and put his chilled feet against Derek's warm ones.  
  
"Not upset that I've thought about the bite," Stiles said.  
  
"No. You know my opinion," Derek said.  
  
Stiles smiled, somewhat sadly. He cuddled into Derek and let the warmth of his body draw him back to sleep.  
  
Stiles pulled up in his jeep. Derek's family home still remained — burnt out — still there. Peter, Isaac, and Derek stood by the house, a mark on the door. To Stiles it was a bastardization of his lover's triskelion, but he took a moment to think, going back to his research and realizing the origins and meaning behind this other pictogram. He got out of the car.  
  
"Stiles!" Derek said, he was upset, that was evident.  
  
"What?" Stiles said, confused.  
  
"You shouldn't be here!" Derek complained, his voice commanding, rough, like they hadn't had a relationship at all... Going back to that moment with the bullet in his arm.  
  
"Why..." Stiles said, hurt.  
  
"I'm sorry," Derek said. He stopped himself from saying more for a moment.  
  
Peter spoke up, "He's worried about you, because the alpha pack might use you."  
  
"To get to Derek?"  
  
"Might be the case."  
  
"It could happen," Isaac said.  
  
"I'm more concerned of what they could do to you, Stiles," Derek said, worry on his face.  
  
Stiles grew frustrated for a moment, came up to Derek and just planted a kiss on his lips making Derek fluster and draw back, but Stiles broke first and then stood back for a moment. He tempted fate itself at that moment. "Derek, you don't have the right to leave me, break from me, or to think your protecting me from whatever by staying away from me. I'm not some hero, but I'm not some defenseless child either."  
  
Derek attempted to speak, but he didn't get anything out before Stiles.  
  
"I watched helplessly as my mother died. And if you think for one moment I'm gonna let some alpha pack come into this town and fuck everything up then you have something else coming. I'm Stiles Stilinski and I run with wolves!"  
  
The evening came. Worry enveloped them all, and yet Stiles spent it in his own bed, with Derek pressed against him. They attempted to not worry about the future, and for only a brief moment forget that there was something going on that they couldn't control, or at least not control entirely. This was going to be war... This was going to hard, but they were going to ensure that everyone they loved was going to come out of this alive.


End file.
